An apple for Tornado
by Inuvik
Summary: AU - WD's Zorro. After a busy night under Zorro's mask, Don Diego returns home in the early morning with a huge lump on his forehead. Now, he has to make up an excuse. But since when do things go according to plan? With danger knocking at the hacienda's gate, Señor Zorro is in for a ride he will remember!
1. Chapter 1

_AN: This is an AU of WD's Zorro with Guy Williams. Set during the second season, after Don Diego's return from Monterey. In this story, Don Alejandro has stopped his son from accepting the proposal of amnesty, *but* Diego did not unmask his father during their fight. So he doesn't know that his father is aware of his double identity._

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_**An apple for Tornado**_

_**by**_

_**Inuvik**_

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**Chapter 1 **

A soft coalescence of blue, purple and orange in the sky announced a cloudless dawn on the pueblo of Los Angeles when Zorro spread away the branches concealing the opening of his den.

Tornado's bridle loose in his gloved hand, Zorro entered and sighed of relief. Though it caused a slight shiver, his too warm body welcomed the pleasant freshness of the cave. His mask was drenched by a sticky sweat running down his dusty face and neck; his clothes, torn in several places, seemed glued to his skin.

In every aspect the night had been hot, and the adrenaline that had maintained him alert through the darkness had worn off a few miles ago, making his ride back to the safety of his lair painful and endless. To say he was stiff and exhausted was an understatement.

As Zorro guided his black stallion to his sheltered pen, the regular echo of the hooves on the granitic ground and the steady breath coming out of the nostrils eased his mind and his pounding heart. A silent prayer of grace for his fellow companion's endurance, swiftness, and dexterity rose in his mind. Maybe more than him, the extraordinary beast was in need of rest after the night-long wild course in the hills, chasing the thieves who had attacked the passengers of the stagecoach from Monterey, robbing them of their pesos and most precious jewels.

If he had neutralized three of the five men easily during the hold-up, the last two _bandidos_ who had flown away with the haul had given him serious problems, dragging him in a hellish ride further inland in the rocky hills above the pueblo.

Zorro removed his gloves, untied his cape, his mask, and turned to put everything on the enclosure guardrail.

His sore shoulder and back complained at the movement, causing him to groan in pain as the memory of his fall in the rocks flashed in his tired mind. He had jumped from Tornado's back to catch one of the rascals. They had rolled down the hill, dragging in their wake a torrent of stones and dry earth.

After what had seemed like an interminable plummet, a larger rock had brutally stopped them. Groggy, he had extricated himself with difficulty, only to notice that the poor bloke had not been as lucky as him, his skull smashed during their roll.

A sad shadow darkened Diego's hazel eyes. Was the bag of pesos he had managed to retrieve worth a man's life, no matter how rotten a life it was? The question had tormented him on his walk back to the track. By the time he had reached it, the last _bandido_ who detained the major part of the haul had vanished and so did Zorro's will to hunt him down.

Tornado's moist nostrils and tongue tickled Diego's palm, yanking his exhausted master back to the present and to his responsibilities toward his mount.

Diego gently patted his beautiful black stallion on his side, and stroked his nose. "You want an apple, don't you, Tornado?" he said, a faint smile on the face.

The horse raised his head and neighed, causing his master to chuckle. He was certain that the beast understood him better than any other human living by his side, save for Bernardo of course.

"I'll give you one, and then we'll both rest. Is this a honest deal to you, mi amigo?" Diego said, turning to his right to pick up the apple on top of the nearby bucket.

Bernardo always made sure that the wild horse's personal reserve was filled, and Diego almost feared that his father would begin to suspect that there was an apple thief. It was amazing the amount of apples that could disappear in a night, especially one like this one.

As he grasped an apple, the absurd image of Don Alejandro hiding himself behind an apple tree in the orchard to catch the robber made him chuckle. He was truly drained.

Diego stood up back straight, pivoting in the same movement to give his horse the fruit, and gasped as a sudden searing pain in his head took his breath away.

A black veil shrouded his vision, forcing him to seek an immediate support on Tornado with one hand, while his other arm fell like a dead weight along his side. His fingers lost their grasp on the apple which fell and rolled away on the straw mat that covered the ground.

Eyes closed and ears ringing, Diego took a firm grasp on the mane and pressed his forehead against the stallion's shoulder as all feeling started to fade. The acrid smell of the beast's sweat invaded his nostrils. He clung on the sensation of the cold contact of the horse skin on his face, of its sides slowly rising up and down. He was in the cave with Tornado; he could not faint now. His bed was steps away.

Unaware of the reason of his rider's sudden hug, Tornado moved forward and bent his long neck to grab his well-earned meal.

Startled by the move, Diego straightened himself, and struggled to keep his balance. He waited for a few seconds, not daring to move, but to his great relief, the dizzy turn was brief, and soon his sight was as clear as it used to be.

Breathing slowly, Diego moved back toward Tornado to at least remove the saddle and the bit. He would send Bernardo to brush it and clean its hooves later.

Once done, he moved to the bucket of clean water and splashed his face, neck, and arms, removing all the dust. He would need a bath before slipping back into _Don Diego_'s skin, but for now it should be sufficient.

"Rest well, my friend," Diego said, patting the horse a last time before walking toward the underground passage that lead back to the hacienda, a hand brushing the cold granitic wall of the cave.

A few minutes later, he walked into the small confined room lit by the soft glow of candles. Bernardo was slumped against the wall, sleeping just under the ring of metal which commanded the opening of the concealed door giving access to his bedroom.

A faint smile lightened Diego's face. As expected, his friend had spent his night here, worriedly waiting for his return.

As silently as possible, he finished undressing, put on the clean night clothes that Bernardo had left for him on the desk, and tip toed toward the ring of metal.

The slight cracking sound made him winced. Bernardo was maybe mute but he had an excellent ear and, as he would not have the same excuse as him to laze in bed till noon, he did not wish to wake him up just now.

Peaceful shadows bathed Diego's bedroom when he walked in. A slight breeze filtered through the shutters, rustling the lace curtains.

Before giving his body what he craved for and slipping under the sheets, Diego moved toward his library and took out the first book within reach. He would put it on his bed next to him so it would leave no doubt in his father's mind why his naïve son was sleeping at undue hours.

Since their return from Monterey, Don Alejandro showed some signs of impatience and had intruded in his room twice already in the early morning, using a noise as an excuse, before letting him return back to his sleep.

As Diego pivoted with the firm intention to crash on his mattress, he suddenly found himself face to face with Bernardo and had to swallow a cry of surprise.

Heart jumping in his chest, he was about to mutter his irritation when Bernardo's facial expression stopped him.

"What is it, Bernardo? Something's wrong?" Diego asked, troubled to be stared at so intensely.

Bernardo nodded quickly and moved to the toilet-table in cherrywood to take the small mirror in the drawer. A small mirror that he put in front of Diego's face an instant later.

A sigh, mix of annoyance and exhaustion, escaped Diego's lips.

He had a swollen, dark purple bruise, large like two pesos above his right eye, stretching further under his hair. Though it explained the earlier dizziness and his constant headache, it was going to be quite hard to explain how he could have hurt his head during his sleep to his father.

Legs wobbly, Diego sat down on the edge of his bed. "Books don't cause such damage..." he said, thinking aloud before putting the one still in his hand on the nightstand. Maybe he could say that he had knocked on a shelf in the middle of the night?

Diego shook his head, and winced at the pain it caused.

No, it would not be credible. To provoke such an angry lump on his forehead, the impact should have woken up the whole hacienda. He had to find something else, but what?

Well too tired to give more thoughts on his predicament, Diego lay down on his bed, appreciating the contact of his head on the smooth pillow. As he closed his eyes, he briefly noticed Bernardo looking at the book on the nightstand with a very mischievous gleam in his eyes. The kind of gleam that needed neither complicated hands nor body movements to be understood.

Intrigued despite his tiredness, Diego raised on an elbow. "You have an idea, Bernardo?" he asked.

With a large smile on his face, Bernardo gave him the book and nodded, obviously proud of himself.


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: Thank you for your kind reviews :-)  
_

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_An apple for Tornado_

_Chapter 2_

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Don Diego was sleeping on his side, a hand under his comfy pillow pleasantly pressed against his face, when a sudden bright light shattered the quiet shadows of his bedroom.

With a moan of irritation, he buried his head under the sheet to escape the warm ray of sun that pierced like hot needles through his closed eyelids.

_Not yet... _he pleaded to himself, his brow wrinkling of annoyance as he let himself drift toward sleep.

A hand gently shook his shoulder.

Startled, the exhausted young don rolled on his back and creaked open an eye to check who was in his room. Perplexed to see no one, he was raising on his elbows when Bernardo's friendly face suddenly appeared from behind the opened door of his wardrobe, his light brown caballero suit over his arm.

Diego lay back on the mattress and sent a desperate glance at the clock on the panel giving access to the hacienda's hidden passageways. It was barely ten.

Five hours of sleep... it would have to do, he thought. Yawning, he pulled the sheet away from his stiff body, and sat up on the edge of the bed.

If only he could count on the next night to offset his sleep deficit, but it was unlikely to happen. He had to take advantage of the _bandidos_' weakened state to find their lair, as he was sure that the five men who had attacked the stagecoach from Monterey yesterday were part of a much bigger gang. Once their base was found, he would just have to find a way to attract the soldiers to them.

Feeling a slight headache rising, Diego took a deep breath and stood up, determined to splash some water on his face to shake away his lethargy. But he had not covered half the distance toward the toilet-table when the room swirled around him.

Bernardo immediately grabbed his elbow with one hand, and with the other dragged the chair to him.

Diego propped his elbows on his knees, rested his head in his hands, and took a few deep breaths. His friend kneeled in front of him, scrutinizing his face, frowning with worry. "I'm fine, Bernardo," he lied, smiling faintly in order to reassure the mute. "It's gone already."

Far from looking reassured, Bernardo quickly shook his head to signal he was no fool, and pointed a finger to Diego's forehead.

"I'm sure it looks worse than it truly is," he said with a wince. The truth was, the headache had strengthened, though he was not certain if it were only due to this fall on his head. Lack of sleep and of proper meal yesterday evening would do just that.

As if guessing his thoughts, the mute servant opened the saddle-bag he had slung over the shoulder, and showed him the small breakfast he had prepared for their morning ride. Feeling his stomach gurgling, Diego stretched his hand to grab the bread but Bernardo quickly shut close the bag and sent a nervous glance at the clock, as if he were in a hurry.

With a frustrated sigh, Diego stood up and finished to prepare.

"Where is my father?" he asked, as Bernardo helped him to put on his vest.

The mute manservant put his hands in front of him, and feigned to ride a horse.

"To the pueblo?"

Bernardo nodded, and moved to half-open the door leading to the balcony.

Diego frowned, puzzled. He did not remember that his father had business to attend in Los Angeles today. He was taking his hat, hanged by its cordon on a hook near the door, when a thought stopped him. "I wonder, Bernardo... Would it not be better if someone witnessed the little misadventure you planned for me?"

An almost devilish grin appeared on the mute's face as he nodded in agreement.

"You already have someone in mind?"

Bernardo inflated his cheeks with as much air as possible, and straightened his shoulders. Eyes wide opened, he drew a hand diagonally across his chest, before circling both arms in front of him as if he had a huge belly.

"Sergeant Garcia?" Diego winced. "I don't know, Bernardo, I'm not sure I want to make a fool of myself on the plaza in front of the cuartel. There are good chances that my father will be at the tavern, and I don't wish him to hear people openly laughing at me."

Bernardo raised a hand in front of him and shook his head. Quickly, he imitated the sergeant on a horse, and _rode_ to the window where he pointed the hills in the distance.

Diego felt his tension disappear at once. "Oh! That's right. Now I remember the sergeant telling me yesterday afternoon that he intended to train his men for a special mission today. He refused to tell me more, despite the wine, saying that the successful outcome of this _mission_ depended on complete secrecy!" he said, a crooked grin lightening his face, and sparkles in his hazel eyes. "Let's go, Bernardo. I wouldn't miss this for anything!" he added, friendly tapping the mute's shoulder.

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A warm breeze blew on the courtyard when the two men climbed down the stairs and walked to the gate, almost as nervous as two _bandidos_ trying to sneak out of the garrison without being caught.

Careful, Bernardo stayed a step ahead of the young don, checking that the path was clear.

Though his hat was low on his head, hiding most of the bruise, neither man wished to stumble on someone, and especially not on Maria or Juan who knew Diego since his birth. All too familiar with each of his youth peccadilloes, they would straight away suspect that something was wrong if he did not raise his eyes toward them to salute.

But thankfully, they made it to the stable without crossing a living soul. And a few minutes later, they were both riding toward the highest point of the de la Vega rancho, Diego eating his breakfast with relief on the way.

As they reached the top of the trail, the young don halted his horse to glance at the majestic valley stretching at their feet. Burnt by the sun, the luxuriant forest growing along the river almost looked like hay. The flood of the river was reduced to a third of it usual volume, causing fear that it would not be enough to live until the wet season.

The earth was thirsty, and soon, so would the beasts.

Diego's eyes turned toward the pueblo, a few miles on his right, wondering if the drought was the reason that had brought his father to the pueblo today. Though he had pretended not to be interested by the conversation, he had heard his father's and the other dons' worry yesterday at the tavern. A worry he shared with them.

Bernardo tapped his shoulder and dragged his attention toward a small clearing on their right, wedged between a steep, rocky hill and a clump of trees.

"The usual place, finally," Diego said with a smirk, catching sight of a swarm of blue uniforms wriggling in all directions. As expected, the sergeant was training his men in secrecy in the first place he had wanted to check.

However, today, he was in fact glad that the sergeant had not gotten the brilliant idea to change the territory. Not only it would make the ride back to the hacienda shorter, but it would decrease the risk to make more witnesses.

Diego gently kicked his palomino's belly to make it move on the rocky trail going down.

A hundred yards from the group of soldiers, he stopped again and waved to Bernardo to hide with him behind a large rock and to observe the scene discreetly.

The soldiers had just taken position behind rocks and trees, circling a donkey-drawn cart full of hay, where the sergeant was standing as proudly as Caesar on his chariot.

"It would not be decent to interrupt the sergeant in such a critical phase of the exercise, Bernardo. Let's allow them to finish."

Unaware of the presence of spectators, Garcia suddenly ordered his men to attack _him_.

Immediately, a horde of soldiers playing the role of _bandidos_ swept on the cart, while, like a Jack-in-the-box, four soldiers leaped from the haystack and jumped on the sergeant instead of trying to stop the attackers.

Terrified by the sudden agitation, the poor donkey brayed and moved forward, sending the sergeant, who was trying to get rid of his men, falling with them in the haystack. The terrible impact caused the cart's left wheel to break, and the five men rolled to the ground, dragging the hay with them.

On his horse, Diego bit his cheeks not to burst of laughing at the sight of Garcia's head emerging from the spilled hay while Bernardo was covering his eyes with his left hand.

"You bunch of stupid babosos! You were in a defender position, how many times do I have to repeat it?" Garcia yelled so loudly that his tenor voice reached their ears.

Possessing against all odds a certain instinct of survival, the four lancers crawled away from their superior while two of their compañeros were trying to catch the donkey running away from the scene, dragging the wreckage of the cart.

"Let's go give our good sergeant a break from his men before he suffers an attack!" Diego said as Garcia was raising his massive body, his face red with fury.

Bernardo shook his head, and with a crooked grin, he rolled his forefingers one above the other.

"Oh! Right, Bernardo. The soldiers are also in need to be saved from the sergeant's ire!" Diego corrected with a large smile, "Then, we'll hit three targets with one bullet, or one book in our case," he added, taking the book that he had removed from the shelf earlier this morning out of his vest.


	3. Chapter 3

_An apple for Tornado_

_Chapter 3_

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"Go back to the cuartel and clean for inspection!" Sergeant Garcia barked to his men as he sat down on a large rock.

As he mopped his sweaty face and neck, he observed the soldiers walking back, their shoulders low, toward the clump of trees where the horses were attached.

The sergeant sighed, and groused, feeling the bitter despair of a general awareness that his troops were unfit for battle. Persisting with his plan would only lead them to a burning defeat, and Don Diego would be so disappointed. He who wanted to impress the young don, using his tale about fierce warriors that had once invaded an impregnable city by building a huge horse and hiding themselves in its belly. Oh! He would have been so proud to show him that he was able to use the stunning story to arrest the _bandidos_ that attacked the stagecoaches.

But he had to admit it; his men were all but fierce warriors.

What annoyed him even more was maybe the fact that his secret hope to capture Zorro when he would come to the _passengers'_ rescue had just collapsed.

He could already hear the famous outlaw's devilish laugh echo between the hills; see his white teeth glowing in the dark as he would observe the fiasco from a safe distance.

No. It would not work. Not with this bunch of _babosos_.

Sergeant Garcia was weeping over his fate when a familiar voice croaked in his ear.

"Why are you covered by straws of hay, Sergeant?"

Startled, Garcia leaped to his feet, pivoted on his heels, and met Corporal Reyes' lethargic gaze.

"What are you doing here, Corporal? Has something happened in the pueblo?" he snapped, brushing vigorously his uniform, before proudly pulling on his jacket to adjust it.

"No, Sergeant. Nothing happened. The pueblo is quiet," Reyes replied, looking perplexed.

"Then why have you deserted your position, Corporal?" Garcia barked, unhappy to be caught in such a pitiful moment by his second-in-command.

"I did not desert, Sergeant. I-"

"Madre di Dios!" Garcia suddenly cut, eyes wide with astonishment, "Is this Don Diego and his deaf-mute servant riding toward us?"

Reyes craned his neck to cast a glance at the hill behind him. "It certainly looks like them, Sergeant."

Garcia collapsed on the rock, and took his handkerchief out of his pocket to mop his face again. "Oh... this is just my luck... I must have looked so ridiculous..." he moaned, shaking his head out of despair.

"I don't think Don Diego saw you, Sergeant, it looks like he's sleeping on his horse."

"Really?" Garcia said, feeling relieved. Though it was brief. "Sleeping on his horse? What are you saying, Corporal? This is ridiculous!" he barked, leaping to his feet to cast a better look at the young don, less than thirty yards from them now.

"See by yourself, Sergeant, he has his chin pressed against his chest as if he-"

Garcia craned his neck forward and narrowed his eyes. "Ah! No, baboso! Don Diego is not sleeping at all, he is just reading a book," Garcia laughed. But once again, the relief was brief. "Madre di Dios!" he exclaimed.

"If you want my opinion, Sergeant, one should not read nor sleep while riding," Reyes said, shaking his head in disapproval.

"Right you are, Corporal, especially on a tricky path like this one," Garcia nodded, before moving toward the imprudent caballero. "Hola, Don Diego?" he cried, waving his hand.

A neigh sounded as the young hacendado's palomino horse rose on its rear legs, and threw the young don to the ground.

"Madre di Dios!" Garcia cried as he watched, helpless, Don Diego rolling down the hill, lifting a cloud of dust in his wake while the horse skidded and almost tripped over his body.

Eyes wide with fear and guilt, the acting-_comandante_ of the garrison of Los Angeles rushed toward the young don, a genuine worry propelling his heavy belly with the velocity of a canon ball.

While Corporal Reyes tried to grab the reins of the panicked animal, Garcia shielded Don Diego with his body, protecting him from the horse's hooves that sliced through the air.

"Corporal! Take this beast away!" he barked.

"I'm trying, Sergeant!" Reyes cried, just as Bernardo joined him. Thankfully, after a few seconds, the deaf-mute servant managed to ease the horse, and took it at a safe distance.

Heart pounding, Garcia straightened on his knees and let out a long sigh of relief. "It's fine, Don Diego, you can stand up now," he said, patting the young man on the shoulder.

Lying flat on his stomach, his light brown caballero suit covered in dust from head to toe, the young hacendado did not move.

"Don Diego?" Garcia asked again as Bernardo kneeled on his master's side, and shook his shoulder.

A painful lump formed into the sergeant's throat, causing him to swallow with difficulty as he rolled the unconscious caballero as delicately as possible on his back.

"Madre di Dios, Don Diego..." he whispered, eyes widening and gasping at the sight of a large, purple bruise under the layer of dust that covered the young man's face.

Tense, he watched the deaf-mute bending over his master's face to detect a breath. Thankfully, he straightened a few seconds later with a smile on his face, and began to slap Don Diego's cheeks.

And to the sergeant's great relief, the young man stirred and opened his eyes.

"Oh! Madre di Dios, Don Diego, are you feeling all right? You gave us such a fright!"

"What..." Diego muttered just as a fit of cough seized him. With Bernardo, Garcia helped him to roll on his side so he could spit the earth that was in his mouth.

"What fright?" the young hacendado asked after a moment, rising on his elbows with a wince of pain.

"Oh! Be careful, Don Diego, don't move too fast," Garcia said, helping him to sit up and lean against a nearby rock, "By the sight of the angry bruise on your forehead, you have hit your head quite badly in your fall."

Diego raised a hand to his right temple, and winced of pain. "What fall?"

The sergeant opened his mouth to reply but stopped, frowning in front of the young don's interrogative gaze, "Don't you remember what happened to you, Don Diego?"

The young man sent him a perplexed glance, before staring at his surroundings as if lost. "I... I was... I don't know... What am I doing here? Who-" he asked, before another coughing fit seized him.

"Corporal?" the sergeant barked, craning his neck to see where his second-in-command was.

"Sí, Sergeant?" Reyes replied just in his ear, startling him.

"Give some water to Don Diego!" he barked before focusing back his attention on the wounded caballero.

"Straight away, Sergeant."

"Don't worry, Don Diego," he said, gently patting him on the shoulder, "A little amnesia can happen when one gets hit on the head. In fact it happened to me the last time this rascal of Zorro knocked me down."

"Zorro?" Don Diego frowned, obviously troubled as he grabbed the wineskin the corporal was handing to him, nodding out of gratitude.

The sergeant straightened and rolled his eyes. "Oh! Don Diego! Don't tell me you also forgot about our most famous _bandido_? El _magnífico_ Zorro?" he said, almost feeling indignant.

The young man stopped drinking, blinked a few times as if his sight was blurred, but did not answer.

Garcia let out a long sigh, and raised his eyes toward the clear blue sky. The sun was high above the clearing now, and its rays were striking the place full strength. While not being responsible for the young don's concussion, he feared it would aggravate his state.

"Allow me," the sergeant said, when Don Diego took a lace handkerchief out of his pocket to remove the dirt from his face. He poured some water on it, and handed it back to the wounded caballero.

"Gracias," the latter replied, mopping his face before folding the square of fabric on his bruise with a wince of pain.

"Are you feeling better now, Don Diego?" Garcia inquired, glancing worriedly at the deaf-mute servant.

Unaware of his master's unsettled state of mind, Bernardo was delicately probing his legs, checking for a potential broken limb. An examination that thankfully only caused some weak moans.

"Sí, much better. This is very kind of you to help an unfortunate stranger like me," the young hacendado said, nodding with gratitude to both Bernardo and him.

"De nada, Don... What stranger Don Diego? I have no better friend than you!" Garcia almost choked, glancing in panic at the deaf-mute.

On the ground, the young don shifted and straightened himself. "Friend?"

"Do you remember me, Don Diego?" Corporal Reyes asked, stepping closer.

"Er... Should I?"

Downright worried, the sergeant pointed Bernardo with his finger, "And him? Don't tell me you don't remember your loyal manservant, Don Diego!"

The young man blinked again, and slightly shook his head. The movement made him hiss in pain and he buried his pale face in his hands.

"Corporal?"

"Sí, Sergeant?"

"Go back to the pueblo and tell el doctor to come to the de la Vega's hacienda," he said, grabbing Diego's arm and wrapping it around his neck to raise him up to his feet. "Oh! And if you see el Señor Verdugo, apologize for me and say I'll come later today to take his statement."

"It's what I wanted to tell you earlier, Sergeant. Don Alejandro invited el Señor Verdugo and his daughter to rest at his hacienda. The hotel is far too noisy for the señorita who is still under the shock of last evening's attack."

"Ah! Perfecto then. I'll accompany Don Diego back to his hacienda and meet him there then."

While the corporal was riding away, Garcia felt the young don suddenly straightening in his arms. "An attack?" Diego asked, turning toward him a fuzzy gaze.

"The stagecoach from Monterey, Don Diego, the same _bandidos_ I'm afraid," the sergeant replied as he helped him to mount on his horse. "But Zorro intervened thankfully, and saved the passengers."

"Who?" Don Diego asked, obviously troubled.

"Wow!" the sergeant suddenly exclaimed, stretching a hand to keep Don Diego from falling from his horse again. "It would be safer if Bernardo rode with you," he added, waving to the deaf-mute to mount behind his master.

As Bernardo nodded, and climbed behind the wounded caballero, the sergeant pointed the clump of trees where his horse was, "Follow me, we'll go around the hill to join the road," he said, waving Bernardo to follow him in the same time.


	4. Chapter 4

_AN: Thank you for your reviews :-) I greatly appreciate them!  
_

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_An apple for Tornado_

_Chapter 4_

* * *

The de la Vega hacienda's terra cotta tiles and white walls, shining under the burning sun, appeared at the corner of a curve on the dusty road.

Bernardo adjusted his position once more and sighed of relief. Holding Diego while riding was uncomfortable and his arms were cramped.

Since half a mile, the young don's head swayed with the horse movements, as if he were unconscious, though he was more probably sleeping, and Bernardo was not feeling too worried. The deep craters under Don Diego's eyes this morning upon awaking testified how drained his young master was, and this little scenario was just too good an opportunity for him to catch up with his sleep.

Now, nobody would find anything to say if he slept through his day.

Bernardo glanced at the sergeant, feeling a bit sheepish for the bad trick they were playing on his behalf. The soldier was obviously shaken, and was riding close to them, sending nervous glances at Don Diego every few feet in case he would not be able to keep the _wounded_ caballero on his horse.

"Here you are, Don Diego," Sergeant Garcia said a few minutes later, setting foot on the ground next to the hacienda's gate.

Bernardo felt the young don straightening slightly in his arms. "Where..." he heard him say, before seeing his head falling forward again.

"I'm holding him, Bernardo, you can get down," the solid soldier said, before pointing him with his finger, then toward the ground.

Careful to maintain a worried expression on his face, the deaf-mute nodded, climbed off the palomino's back, and went to attach the bridle to the wooden guardrail, glancing at the sergeant helping Don Diego to get off of the saddle at the same time.

"Wow!" the sergeant exclaimed, wrapping Don Diego's arm around his massive neck to hold him when the young don's knees failed him.

Heart pounding faster at the sight of his young master's gaunt face, Bernardo immediately rushed to his side to offer extra support, frowning with worry.

The young don was pushing the comedy act a bit too much for his peace of mind, and he began to wonder if this little misadventure was, after all, such a good idea.

As they came in the patio, Bernardo raised his eyes, and saw Señorita Verdugo sitting on a chair under the freshness of the tree growing in the middle of the tiled place, waving a white lace fan next to her delicate face.

A lump formed in Bernardo's throat as he was unsure how to feel about her unexpected presence.

He knew by overhearing Don Alejandro talking to his son a few days ago that Señor Verdugo was to come today with news from Spain, but the older don had never mentioned that Don Gregorio would be accompanied by his charming daughter.

Bernardo was discreetly glancing at Don Diego to see his reaction when the sergeant exclaimed,

"Ah! Señorita Verdugo! I'm relieved to find you here. Would you please be kind enough to open the door for us?"

Upon seeing them, the young woman quickly put her fan down on the glass top of the small, circular wrought-iron table next to her, and rushed toward them. "Diego?" she asked, her pale face upset with worry as she put a hand on his face, "What happened to him, Sergeant?"

"A very stupid accident, Señorita. And one I'm unfortunate to be at the origin..." the sergeant replied, embarrassed, as he continued his way toward the sala's entrance door.

"What accident, Sergeant?"

While they entered into the hacienda's main living room, the soldier explained in a few words what happened in the small clearing where he used to train the lancers.

"He was reading on his horse?" Señorita Verdugo asked, eyes and mouth wide opened in an apparent disbelief that mutated into a reproachful glance.

Bernardo shuddered, and mentally cursed against their bad timing.

Though they had succeeded in their plan to provide his family circle and entourage a good explanation for his bruise, he now feared that the young don would never hear the end of the reprimands. After such a fright, Sergeant Garcia would not miss the opportunity to lecture him at the first occasion, as certainly would Don Alejandro the minute he would pass the door. And by the look on Señorita Verdugo's face, he would rather avoid waking up just right now if he were in his master's position.

"In a tricky slope, moreover. Where is Don Alejandro?" the sergeant asked, glancing at the sala.

"You missed him by a hair's breadth, Sergeant. He left for Don Nacho's hacienda a few minutes ago with my father. Lay him down here. Gently..." she said, pointing the sofa in front of the windows.

While the señorita was sliding a small embroidered pillow under Diego's head and loosening his collar to make him more comfortable, Bernardo frowned, seized by doubt. A shadow of pain could be read on his master's face; his eyes were tightly closed and his jaw clenched. Don Diego was maybe feigning being unconscious, but his pain was not fake. Worry began to seep into Bernardo's soul, like ink spilled on paper. Could Don Diego have hurt himself in his capering?

"Don Nacho's hacienda? It's on the other side of the pueblo..." the sergeant said, as Bernardo rushed to the kitchen to fetch a bucket of water and rags, lending an attentive ear to the tenor voice filtering through the opened door.

"I sent Corporal Reyes fetching el doctor. He should be here shortly."

As Bernardo walked back in the sala, he caught sight of the sergeant waving to him to approach. "With your permission, señorita," the sergeant said as he gently grasped his arm, "I'll leave you with Bernardo to go and warn Don Alejandro about what happened to his son."

"Don't worry, Sergeant. I am certain that Don Diego will be fine, and you'll be both laughing at this misadventure in a few days."

The soldier sighed and nodded.

"I hope you're right, señorita... I hope you're right," he replied, glancing at the young don with a certain sadness and embarrassment before he turned his heels.

Sick at heart, Bernardo was watching him walking out of the sala when a gentle hand on his shoulder slightly startled him.

"Bernardo?" the señorita said with a sweet voice, waving her arm toward his young master.

The mute servant nodded, and headed toward Don Diego. As he put the bucket down at the bottom of the sofa, the señorita took one of the rags draped over his arm, and kneeled next to the young don. She plunged the clean fabric in the cold water, wrung it, and delicately, she pressed it on Don Diego's bruised forehead.

For the next five minutes, Bernardo stayed up next to the window, eyes worriedly moving from the young woman delicately mopping the unconscious don's face to the patio, watching out the gate for the doctor, back and forth.

"I must be in Heaven..." a weak, rasping voice muttered.

His gaze on the patio at that moment, Bernardo closed his eyes and recited a prayer of grace as the young woman chuckled, "Though California is a beautiful place, Diego, I do hope Heaven is more peaceful."

"Angels only live in Heaven..."

"What were you thinking, Diego? Reading a book while riding... You could have killed yourself."

"Then I would have been the happiest man in all ages, as I would have spent eternity by your side."

The señorita's sweet laugh echoed.

"Sergeant Garcia told me you were rather confused after your fall, but I shall warn you not to take this opportunity to tease me, Diego de la Vega," she said with a feigned reproachful tone, continuing to mop his face. "Do you feel better now?"

"Thanks to you, sí," the young don replied, grabbing her hand and dragging it toward his lips to gently kiss it.

A smile lighting her dark eyes, the señorita retracted her hand from his grasp, and adjusted back the rag on his forehead.

Bernardo bit his lips not to smile as he was feeling both relieved and happy. Relieved that Don Diego was fine, and happy that his young master was taking advantage of the situation to open his heart without fear of the consequences. After a good night of rest, he would wake up saying that he had no memories of what had happened or of what he had said the previous day, though these words would remain to soothe his heart.

Silently, the mute servant retreated in the kitchen to allow Don Diego a little privacy with the young señorita before the doctor would arrive.

While he gathered a pitcher and glasses – Don Diego's dry lips and the slight sun burn coloring his cheeks in red showed that he was thirsty - Bernardo shook his head and sighed deeply, relieved that this stressing morning was behind him.

Though they had convened that Don Diego would show a slight disorientation after his fall to make it more credible, the young don almost had him convinced that his amnesia was real. Definitely, his young master liked playing comedy as much as he appreciated performing magic tricks, and maybe even more.

Holding a silver tray with refreshments, Bernardo moved back in the sala that was silent again.

The señorita was still kneeling next to the sofa, staring anxiously at the young don sleeping, holding his hand.

Bernardo put the tray on the side table next to the sofa and poured water in a glass.

"Gracias, Bernardo," the señorita nodded. "Diego?" she asked, brushing his face with the back of her hand to wake him up.

The young don stirred and opened his hazel eyes.

"Here, drink a bit, you'll feel better," she said gently, approaching the glass to his lips.

With a wince of pain, Don Diego rose up on his elbows, and seized the glass.

"Gracias, señorita," he whispered after taking a few sips. He closed his eyes and nodded before lying back on the sofa. "Whoever you are..."

At the last words, Bernardo turned away to hide his trouble, and caught sight of the doctor walking across the patio. Heart beating faster, he headed toward the door, telling himself that Don Diego was exaggerating.

Before the doctor could knock, the mute servant opened the door, grasped the man's arm and dragged him inside.

"Calm down, calm down!" the doctor said, surprised to be handled in such a way. "Tell me instead where is Don Diego?"

"Here, Doctor," the señorita said, standing up to meet the doctor, "He fell asleep just a moment ago."

The doctor frowned, and kneeled next to the sleeping don, putting his bag on the carpet. With a serious glance, he bent over Don Diego's chest to listen to his breathing and his heart. After a minute, he raised up, obviously satisfied.

"Diego?" he asked, slapping the young don on the cheeks to wake him up. "Corporal Reyes told me he did not reco-"

The door suddenly burst open, interrupting the doctor in his sentence.

Alarmed, as much by the echo of the door slamming on the wall like a gunshot than by the sudden fear on the doctor's and the señorita's faces, Bernardo turned his head toward the entrance, and raised his hands above his head.

Two very dirty men stood on top of the few steps, their faces concealed by scarves and large sombreros. Both were tall and had a solid build. In a fight against a bull, Bernardo would not bet on the winner. To resort to physical force to stop these men seemed foolish in any case. As if it were not enough, they were aiming guns at them.

"Doctor! We need your services. You come with us," the one on the left barked.

"After I have finished treating this man first."

"You're finished," the other _bandido_ snarled, turning his weapon toward Diego who stirred out of sleep at that moment.

"No!" the señorita cried, placing herself in front of the sofa, hiding the young don who was sitting up, holding his head in one hand, while the doctor straightened, and claimed, brave, "Then you'll have to kill me!"

Eyes wide with fear, Bernardo quickly placed himself next to the señorita to increase the surface of their human shield, sending a desperate glance at Don Diego.

"What is the meaning of this?" the young don asked curtly.

"Please lie back down, Diego, you should not be standing at all," the doctor said.

Bernardo swallowed a lump in his throat at the sight of the furious gleam in his young master's eyes that seemed darker with his pale face. Hands clenched into fists, shoulders tensed, Bernardo had seldom felt such danger emanating from him, even when wearing el Zorro's mask, and he feared the fight to come.

One of the _bandidos_ suddenly moved forward, grabbed the señorita's arm, and dragged her against him.

While the señorita struggled to free herself from the man's iron grasp, Don Diego stepped forward, but stopped when the other _bandido_ aimed at the señorita's head with the gun.

"You move a toe, de la Vega, and I will kill her! Now, Doctor, you follow us if you don't want to be held responsible for her death."

Feeling utterly powerless next to the young don's side, Bernardo watched the _bandidos_ moving back toward the door with their two prisoners.

As soon as they stepped through the door, Don Diego leaped forward, but stopped suddenly, raising his hands above him again. Bernardo quickly joined him, and, staying inside the cover of the sala, put his hand on the young don's arm to attract his attention. As the latter turned a furious look toward him, he drew a Z into thin air with his forefinger.

"Speak! What do you want?" Don Diego asked, obviously troubled.

Confused, Bernardo drew again el Zorro's sign, staring anxiously at his young master. Why was he telling him to speak?

"Stay here if you want, but I'll go and free the señorita and the doctor."

Shocked, Bernardo watched Don Diego rushing toward the gate in pursuit of the _bandidos_.


	5. Chapter 5

_An apple for Tornado_

_Chapter 5_

* * *

_Diego, reading on his horse! Well... maybe. But falling? Ah! Never! _

These were Don Alejandro's proud thoughts since Sergeant Garcia announced to him that his son had been injured in a riding accident. And during his way back to the hacienda, he felt a growing worry. This _fall_ could be a trick meant to provide an official explanation for an injury he would have sustained during the stagecoach attack the previous evening.

The sun was slowly declining in the cloudless sky when Don Alejandro, followed by his friend Don Gregorio, arrived at the hacienda. The scorching heat had not diminished though, and pearls of sweat ran down on both men's foreheads.

As he dismounted, Don Alejandro glanced at Doctor Avilla's carriage in front of the gate and shuddered. Diego's injury was severe enough to need a medical look, though not enough to allow him to mount and pull a stunt that scared and embarrassed the good sergeant. Unaware that he had been tricked, the soldier would probably drink his fill before the end of the day to recover from his emotions with the peso he had given him when passing by the tavern on their way back to the hacienda.

Don Alejandro shook his head, feeling a bit ashamed to imitate Diego and drive the sergeant deeper into drunkenness. But it was the only way to convince the worried man not to follow them back and, as his son would not mind a bit of tranquility now, he had shaken any scruples away.

"After you, my friend," he said, inviting with a wave of the arm Don Gregorio to enter the patio and thinking that he would have to share a word with Diego about the lack of morality of his joke.

Faces frowned with different kinds of worry, both men quickly walked across the place and entered the sala.

"Make yourself comfortable, Gregorio," Don Alejandro proposed, glancing at the lifeless sala and deducing that Diego was in his bedroom. "I'll ask the servants for refreshments before going to see my son."

Don Gregorio gently held his arm and said, "I know the turmoil a father can feel upon such circumstances. Let's inquire about Diego's health first, my friend."

Grateful of the gesture, Don Alejandro nodded and turned toward the stairs.

The two old caballeros climbed to the hacienda's second floor, and shortly after, Don Alejandro knocked on his son's bedroom door to announce his presence. Too worried to be patient, a quality he was aware to lack anyway, he entered without waiting for acknowledgment.

But to his great astonishment, he found the little room as lifeless as the sala.

The bed was still made, so his son had not even laid on it. Where could he be?

Don Alejandro stepped back on the landing and called, "Diego?"

As he obtained no answer, he walked across the bedroom and opened the door leading to the balcony. He was glancing around when Don Gregorio said, "I'll go find Anna-Maria. She might know where he is."

"My own bedroom is less exposed to the blazing sun and is always fresher by this hour of the day. Maybe Diego is resting in there," Don Alejandro added.

Both men nodded to each other and went opposite ways.

The next minute, the old don was standing on his doorframe, perplexed. He took a deep breath and tried to reason a rising anguish. There were many other rooms in the hacienda where Diego could be. Maybe the doctor had ordered a bath to soothe his injuries with medicinal herbs?

Quickly, Don Alejandro climbed down the outside stairs, and strode across the patio again with the mindset of checking the bathroom. Without a glance, he passed the sala and entered in the kitchen as the bathroom was adjacent to it.

But once there, Don Alejandro felt worry overwhelming him when he did not find his son. This made no sense as the doctor's carriage was still here!

The kitchen backyard door creaked opened, causing the old don to pivot nervously.

"Ah! Buena!" he said, relieved to stumble upon a servant. "Have you seen Diego?"

The young woman bowed in salute. "I haven't, Don Alejandro, but I just came back from the wash-house."

The answer exasperated him further. "Have you seen Bernardo on your way?"

"Yes, Don Alejandro. I saw him riding fast toward the hills around the orchard. But Don Diego was not with him."

"And the doctor?"

The young servant shook her head. "I did not see him either, Don Alejandro."

"Thank you, Buena," the old don said just as Don Gregorio stepped in the kitchen.

"I can't find Anna-Maria!" he announced, troubled.

Don Alejandro frowned and stared at his friend, matching his worry. And suddenly, both men smiled, eyes gleaming as they needed no words to express what shared thought was crossing their minds. Of course! Their children were together, walking, or riding somewhere, making up for lost time as they had not seen each other for a year and a half.

_One year and a half!_ _Already..._ Don Alejandro sighed, aware of his son's deep feelings toward his old friend's daughter.

Ah! How many times he had felt his fatherly heart rebelling against his patriotic one, and guilt crushing him to have forbidden Diego to surrender el Zorro's sword in order to experience the sweetness of a husband's life and to become a father in his turn?

Don Alejandro took a deep breath and sighed.

At least Diego's injuries were certainly less severe than he had feared, and the doctor could have other reasons to still be here as Emilio, one of the young vaqueros, had hurt his elbow a few days ago.

"Come to the sala, Gregorio," he chuckled, "We'll wait for their return while refreshing ourselves."

Promising themselves to reprimand their respective offspring for the scare they had given them as soon as they would set a toe in the hacienda, both dons walked back to the sala, feeling relieved.

Don Alejandro briefly lowered his gaze to watch the steps, and suddenly froze, frowning upon seeing a clump of earth on the tiled ground of the entrance. He had not noticed it until now, but there were dirty footprints.

Perplexed, he crouched, touched the earth, and felt his eyes widening of dread.

What was red clay doing in his house? The ground around the pueblo did not harbor such color, and so it could not have been deposited here, neither by his son's soles, nor by any other persons living in the region of Los Angeles.

_Nobody save for... _the old don shuddered, tensing up as a sudden fear tightened his entrails.

"I see trouble in your eyes, Alejandro. What is it?"

Face pale, the old don raised his head and met dismay in his friend's gaze.

"Strangers have come to my house, Gregorio."

"Strangers?" his friend repeated, eyes frowning with mistrust. "Do you fear our children are in danger?"

Don Alejandro swallowed a lump in his throat, stood up and sighed.

"I'm probably mistaken, Gregorio, but I prefer to go and find my son's manservant for answers. Would you stay here in case I'm only an old fool worrying too much and that our children come back safely?"

"I'll stay here, Alejandro, but I have known you for too long to know that you're no fool."

Don Alejandro sighed and nodded. Patting Don Gregorio's arm, he said, "Do not worry my friend. Anna-Maria is safe with Diego."

On this, the old don stepped out of the sala and strode across the patio toward the gate, feeling his reassuring words disappearing in a dark and cold abyss.

Their children were in great danger.


	6. Chapter 6

_An apple for Tornado_

_Chapter 6_

* * *

The shimmering heavens an only witness, Diego grasped the edge of the overhanging rock above him, and hauled himself on a narrow platform. He rested on his knees a short moment to catch his breath and relax his cramped muscles.

All day he had followed the trail of red clay the _bandidos_ had left behind them, looking forward for the night to bathe the landscape in shadows to act. Though for the last mile, he wondered why he had felt so compelled to wait for the stars to shine as now, to read the hooves' imprints in the ground was an impossible task.

Diego stared at the moon casting a silver gleam on the rocky hills. Despite his anxiety, he felt a new life springing into his veins like a wild river, sharpening his senses.

Confident, he resumed his ascension.

As soon as he reached the top of the cliff, he crept toward the opposite edge a dozen feet away, crouched, and flattened on his belly to cast a look at the rocky hills stretching in front of him.

A crooked smile appeared on the young don's face, and his eyes sparkled with exhilaration.

In a small clearing two hundred yards away, four tiny silhouettes could be seen sitting in the weak circle of orange light provided by a fire.

As expected, the _bandidos_ had settled camp for the night under the cover of one of the rare clumps of trees and bushes which grew in the arid landscape, keeping the light of their fire from revealing their presence.

_Futile!_ He could perfectly see them from here. Their _safe_ position would seal their fate as they would neither hear nor see him coming to them.

A howling shriek came to his ears, and a warm breeze blew on his face, swaying locks of hair on his forehead.

Diego raised his eyes and embraced in one glance the uneven landscape.

In the distance, a dark, irregular line ran across the ground like a fault and ended in a vast black hole, as if the earth had collapsed into the entrails of Hell.

_The Devil's Hoof!_

The name clashed in Diego's mind as if a thunderbolt had just stricken the heart of the night, causing a searing headache that echoed painfully in his head.

The young don buried his head into his arms, and clenched his jaw, focusing only on taming the acute pain. When it faded enough to allow him to think, he cautiously opened his eyes and took deep breaths to slow down his racing heart. Now was not the time to feel weak.

As Diego raised his head and peered again at the dark outlines of the fault, fear suddenly grasped him. He had a feeling that he knew the place, and knew that he should not be here. Why?

This last question joined the long list of his daily frustrations, and a brutal swing of mood seized him. His hand clenched into a furious fist that knocked hard on the ground, causing a slight rock slide.

Diego rested his forehead on his fists, and tried to coerce his mind to reveal its secrets despite his headache. A groan escaped his lips as again, he met nothing else but an abyss darker than the shadows surrounding him. He could remember nothing prior to the sweaty, fat face of the sergeant staring at him with worry.

This was beyond absurdity!

All day, the hills had held no secret to him as he recognized each rock, each bush, each clump of tree.

How could he know and _not_ _know_ at the same time? How could someone forget his own name? Not know who he was? How could he not recognize the people who had so gently rescued him? How could he not know the name of the señorita who had taken care of him with such delicacy?

Diego's furor was leaving him tormented and breathless when the porcelain face of the young señorita appeared, a soft candle that dispelled the obscurity of his mind. Like morning dew on roses, the freshness of her scent intoxicated his senses, and he felt again his lips brushing the silk of her skin.

Diego closed his eyes to make the memory linger and to soothe his frayed nerves.

_I shall warn you not to take this opportunity to tease me, Diego de la Vega! _

The mischievous gleam in her dark eyes, the tenderness in her melodious voice as she pronounced his name; a name that still felt strange to his ear, though he craved to hear her say it again.

A calm sigh escaped his lips. They knew each other well, he was certain of this, though not as much as he would have wished for obviously, or else she would not have withdrawn her hand.

A flash of sadness flooded in the young don's heart, before he felt anger rising again in another brutal swing of mood that left him disoriented. But not as much that he would lose the scope of his ire.

The _bandidos_ would pay their outrage to the señorita dearly, he decided, now more than ever determined to seek justice on his own.

A stronger and warmer gust of wind blew on his face, chasing his warlike thoughts away.

_The Devil's breath..._

In the night of Diego's spirit, a small, red blotch seeped and began to sprawl like blood.

The young don's eyes widened of dread and a lump formed in his throat as a sudden conviction rose from deep inside him: the _bandidos_ planned to cross the fault first thing tomorrow morning. The first step of a perilous journey that would lead them toward the depth of the earth where clay was red like blood. The blood of people who came down, and were never seen again."

This was wrong... Utterly wrong! This was folly and sacrilege!

Heart rate spiking, Diego sent a terrified glance downward at the tiny silhouettes sitting around the fire.

Another gust of wind lashed his face and this time, Diego could swear he heard a shriek inside it, like the tearing cry of a tormented soul.

Insecure, he moved his right hand to his waist, searching for the hilt of his sword. He found none and the realization that he was armless deeply disconcerted him.

Troubled, Diego glanced over his shoulder and stared at the hills as, for the first time today, he considered riding back to the hacienda to seek help and weapons. The moonlight allowed him to see his path sufficiently, so he was not afraid to lose his way. And maybe the sergeant who had proclaimed having no better friend than him would be kind enough to lend him command of a small troop of soldiers? If he was fast enough, he could be back here before dawn with reinforcements and have the _bandidos_ circled.

The young don shook his head, feeling strangely ill at ease at the idea of involving the army in this affair.

No, he needed no help to handle the scoundrels that had captured the señorita and the doctor.

Thrill rose again in Diego's mind as he decided that the time to act had come. He was feeling confident that he alone was their best chance of rescue.

In the darkness, Diego crawled away from the edge of the cliff and began to climb down with a devilish grin. After all, he might not be the only one that the place made uneasy, and he intended to capitalize on the situation.

Like a wraith, Diego silently moved around the bush where his horse was tied, and strode across the uneven, rocky clearing.

As he came closer to the clump of trees that hid the camp, the acrid smell of burning wood and leaves stung his nostrils. Diego stopped, and crouched behind a large rock. As his hand brushed the ground, he picked up a handful of rocks that he put in his vest pocket.

Then, he cautiously crept forward, and crouched near a thick bush to go and check how the _bandidos_ had organized their night. In the best case scenario, he would be able to free the doctor and the señorita while the rogues were asleep. In the worse, he would have to trick them out of their hiding place, and take them down one by one.

On his belly, Diego crawled under the bush and fought his way like a snake until he reached a spot where he had a clear sight of the camp.

As he adjusted his position, his elbow snatched some dry wood.

Diego froze. Hidden in the dark shadows, he stared at the two men sitting next to the fire twenty feet away from his position. Assured that they had not heard him, he allowed himself to take a shallow breath and crawled back a few feet. He had seen what he needed.

The señorita and the doctor were further on his left, sitting back to back with their hands tied together. Both had their head falling forward, and he deduced that they had succumbed to exhaustion. It was one thing to ride a horse with the bridles in hand like a caballero in full control of each of his mount's moves, and another completely to be jolted with one's hands tied for hours.

Had they been allowed to drink and eat after such a trying day? he wondered as he realized that he was thirsty and hungry.

But he did not have more time to waste on his own belly as he felt ire rising and had to crush a brutal urge to jump straight away on the _bandidos_ to make them pay for such roughness.

The young don struggled to keep his blood under control as he knew that a direct confrontation would not end to his advantage. Even if nature had been quite generous toward his person, providing him strong muscles, an excellent sense of balance, and quick reflexes, one of the _bandidos_ had just to threaten the señorita with his gun to make him yield again, like they had done earlier in the hacienda. He would have had accomplished nothing but to jeopardize their lives.

Jaw clenched, the young don crawled under the bush toward the prisoners. He had first to free them from their bonds, and wanted to warn them to stand ready for his signal.

But the bushes near the place where the prisoners rested were thorny, and Diego quickly found himself trapped with branches painfully scrapping his back and his arms. And he was forced to stop only a few feet from them.

"Señorita? Doctor?" he whispered, keeping an alert eye on the _bandidos_. At least, the wind was now blowing almost continuously and whistled in the branches of the trees surrounding them, allowing him to talk to the prisoners without too much risk of being overheard.

After a few more calls, he saw with relief the young woman raising her head and peering at the darkness in front of her. When he called again, she turned her head toward the bush where he was hiding.

"Zorro? I knew you would come!"

The thrill in the señorita's voice pleased him and annoyed him at the same time as he remembered the sergeant telling him earlier that the man called el Zorro was an outlaw. Why was the señorita pronouncing his name with such ardor in her voice?

"Not Zorro, Señorita, I'm Diego," he replied after a moment.

"Diego?" she whispered.

"Sí, Señorita, Diego de la Vega," he repeated, troubled by the obvious disappointment in her voice. "Is the doctor all right?" he inquired. The man was not stirring, and he was growing concerned that a wound or sickness could affect the doctor. In such a case, their escape could reveal itself more difficult as he would have to personally take care of him.

"I think he is. But Diego? What are you doing here?"

"Rescuing you and the doctor," he replied, taken short by such a cold welcome. What else could he be doing here?

"Please, Diego, go back to the pueblo and warn Señor Zorro of our predicament. He... you... how to say this... I mean no offense, Diego, but you are not used to fighting such brutes."

The young don bit his lips, feeling his blood insulted nonetheless. Why did she not trust him to save her? And by all saints, _who_ was this _bandido,_ apparently so high in the señorita's esteem, that it denied him the right to come to her rescue at his place?

"I'm afraid that you will have to do with my poor person tonight, Señorita, as I know neither who this señnor is, nor how to find his person."

"Please Diego, this is too dangerous. These men won't hesitate to kill you."

The terror in her voice pleased him, and he smiled, "Life is not without risk, Señorita, and this one feels like a chance to redeem myself for your kindness earlier today."

"Diego, you would not redeem yourself well if you died..."

"Your worry touches my heart, Señorita, but do not bury me with such haste," he claimed, trying to keep his voice as low as possible. Then he extended his arm and stretched it as far away as he could. "Here's a sharp stone you can use to cut your bonds," he said, pleased to feel the contact of his fingers against her own. "Now listen carefully. I have planned to attract those rascals away from the camp. In the meantime, wake up the doctor, and pretend to be afraid when I'll make the noises of a coyote. As soon as you are alone, run to the horses, and ride with the moon behind you as there is a long fault and a deep canyon in the other direction."

"But you, Diego?"

"I'll be near you as soon as I can, Señorita," he smiled, wishing more than ever to grab her in his arms.

With a twinge of sadness, he silently crawled back into the bush, feeling somehow troubled by the señorita's words. What kind of man would he be, not to come to a woman's rescue while he alone had the duty and the occasion? What kind of man would instead run away to seek the help of another?

If he truly were this kind of man, then he wished to never remember his past life.

As the young don circled around the bush toward the fault to take position in a tree as far away as possible from the _bandidos_' horses, he swayed all his doubts away. The adrenaline in his veins was exhilarating his nerves and his soul.

He knew his blood was not the one of a coward.

* * *

_AN: I wish to thank you all for your kind reviews :-) You're making a happy writer!_


	7. Chapter 7

_An apple for Tornado_

_Chapter 7_

* * *

A warm wind blowing from the south bent the branches; the leaves shivered, and caressed the young don's face as he swayed twenty feet up in the air. Tense, Diego tightened his grasp on the trunk, and felt the rough bark of the twisted tree digging under his nails. His jaw clenched, though it was neither from pain or fear of falling. Every fiber in his body was eager to spring into action. And this scared him more than not knowing who he was.

Diego stayed silent and still for a long moment, melting with the shadows to observe the _bandidos_ a dozen yards away. One lay down next to the fire, ready to sleep, but the other was standing watch with a rifle within reach.

The señorita was right on one point. The thugs were too rough to be handled together. His best chance was to attract one of them near his position, and take care of him before falling on the other. The darkness and the effect of surprise should suffice to give him the upper hand in each fight.

A gust of wind loaded with warm moistness whistled in the leaves, and swayed the young don's face.

_Now or never, _he decided, certain that the devil's breath would carry his shriek toward the canyon where it would whirlwind into the dark abyss.

Diego took a deep inhalation, raised one hand around his mouth, and gave the long, high-pitched cry of a coyote, slowly dropping his voice at the end. The wind became fiercer, and he cried again, lowering slightly the tone of his voice to make it sound as if a second coyote was answering the first.

The effect was immediate and expected.

As the echo of the two calls melted and spread between the rocky hills, the horses neighed, and their hooves hit the ground. The _bandidos_ suddenly raised their heads, and peered at the dark shrubs and trees around them. Because of the wind, it was impossible for them to really identify where the beast was.

A crooked smile appeared on Diego's face when he saw them slowly get up to inspect the shadows.

Satisfied to have caught their attention, the young caballero took a couple of stones out of the pocket of his vest and waited for the wind to ease a bit before throwing them with force into the bushes on his left.

At the sound, the _bandidos _craned their necks and one aimed his pistol at the dark shrubs where the stones had fallen while the other crouched to pick up his rifle.

Diego took a few more out of his pocket and threw them with force on a rock not far from his position.

The barrel of the pistol rose toward him, but the young don forced himself to stay still. He knew he could not be seen in such darkness, unless he moved and betrayed his presence by breaking a branch.

Holding his breath, he watched the man holding a rifle joining his compañero_. _The rough thugs exchanged a few words that Diego, even though he leaned an attentive ear, was too far to grab.

The _bandidos_ nodded to each other, and moved back toward the cooking fire. While the man holding the rifle stood watch, swatting the shadows of each shrub and tree with his weapon, the other picked up two large sticks in the reserve near the camp fire, and knotted a piece of fabric around one extremity of each stick.

And shortly after, the _bandidos_ ventured in the darkness surrounding their camp, lighting their way with the makeshift torches.

The young don took a deep breath, thrill electrifying his nerves as he perfectly saw one weak halo of light coming toward him, while the other moved away to check a cluster of shrubs on the other side of the camp.

Left without proper surveillance, the prisoners took advantage to move and struggle to free themselves from their ties.

The young don focused back on the _bandido_ with the gun. He was almost within reach. Jaw clenched, he waited a few more seconds for the man to walk just under the branch were he was, and like a cougar jumping on his prey, he thrust and knocked the thug hard to the ground.

The flame of the torch burnt his arm, and a shot exploded. He heard the bullet slicing the air, and the smell of rotten eggs of the powder stung his throat. But the young don ignored all these disagreements, and swiftly, he rose to his knees and grabbed the half-groggy man by his collar to punch him.

"Hands up, Señor Zorro, for I have a very clear aim at your head right now!"

All blood instantly left the young don's face as he froze. What was the other _bandido_ doing here? His torch was on the opposite side of the camp... Then, Diego realized the extent of his error. He must have been spotted during the day, and the _bandidos_ knew the sounds were but a trap, and reversed the situation to their advantage.

Diego took a deep breath to ease his pounding heart and complied willingly. In fact, it was not entirely as catastrophic as he first thought. While the two _bandidos_ were busy with his person, the prisoners' path was free.

"You got the wrong man," he replied, deciding to keep them focused on him, "I'm not this outlaw called el Zorro!"

The man on whom he had fallen, crouched to pick up the torch, and, taking a knife out of his sash, stepped closer to light Diego's face.

"By all devils! De la Vega?" the _bandido_ with the rifle said. "The naïve scion of that old bloody-minded royalist?"

As the thug spit the last words, Diego felt his blood boiling, and to keep himself under control cost him a great deal of effort.

"Though I'm tempted to kill you right now, your life is worth more hides than I'll ever be able to-" A neigh and hoof beats on the hard ground suddenly interrupted the _bandido_. "The prisoners!" he shouted, leaping forward.

As the thug holding the torch ran away, the darkness fell.

That was all Diego needed. Swiftly, the young don grabbed the rifle, and pivoted quickly to throw the man to the ground. But the scoundrel was of a solid build, and though surprised by the maneuver, he did not let go of his weapon, and dragged the young don with him to eat the dust. They rolled on the ground, each struggling for control of the rifle. But quickly enough, Diego found himself flat on his back with the long barrel painfully digging in his throat.

In the distance, a shot echoed and the piercing cry that ensued filled the young don with dread.

The rush of adrenaline caused by his fear for the prisoners increased his strength tenfold. The rifle moved away a bit before the _bandido,_ growling like the beast he was, pushed it back on his throat. Aware that all the strength he could summon would never be enough to keep him from being strangled, Diego suddenly changed strategy and bent his legs on his chest and fiercely kicked his opponent's belly.

With a moan of pain and surprise, the thug flew into the air and landed heavily a few feet away.

Coughing and massaging his sore throat, the young don rolled on his side and stood up to run to the prisoners' aid.

But as he darted across the camp, a terrible weight struck him on his back like a galloping horse, and threw him hitting the ground head first a mere foot from the cooking fire. Feeling the heat of the flames, he fought a dizzy spell when a powerful hand grabbed him by the collar and raised him on his feet. Acting by sheer will of surviving, the young caballero grabbed a handful of earth and stones and threw it to the _bandido's_ face.

The man cringed, and muttered a curse that strangled into a cough.

Feeling himself staggering in a worrying way, Diego stepped forward and threw a right hook that crashed against the man's nose.

"Let go of me, scum!"

Panting, the young don craned his neck to his right, and felt his eyes widening of dread.

"Surrender, de la Vega, or I slay the wench!" the other _bandido_ snarled. With one hand he held the señorita firmly against him, and from the other he threatened her throat with a knife.

Diego's fist froze into the air as the realization of his failure fell on him like the blade of an executioner.

"Where is el doctor?" the _bandido_ the young caballero was fighting against barked, spitting blood out of his mouth. Probably the young don's last punch had broken a tooth or two.

"The boss only asked for the wench," the other replied with satisfaction, laughing, "And I understand why! A fiercely spirited one she is. She bit me! Ah!"

But such vile pleasure was not shared by his compañero who roared, "You let him escape, you moron! If my brother dies because of you, I swear you'll share his fate!" he threatened_,_ before turning a deadly stare to Diego. "I should kill you for this, de la Vega, but I know where my interests lie. Kneel on the ground if you don't wish to see the color of the señorita's blood!"

To emphasize the crude words of his compañero, the other _bandido_ lowered the knife from the senorita's throat to her side and pressed it enough to obtain a cry of pain and terror.

Defeated, the young caballero closed his eyes, and complied.

"Diego? I'm sorry..."

Upon hearing the señorita whispering his name, the young don raised his eyes toward her. In the half shadows, the warm light of the waving flames danced on her pale skin, and revealed tears rolling on her porcelain cheeks.

"Not as much as I, Señorita," Diego replied, just as a terrible blow fell on his head and a cloak of darkness swallowed up his senses.


	8. Chapter 8

_An apple for Tornado_

_Chapter 8_

* * *

Barely risen, the sun formed a blinding, diamond glare in the clear blue sky of Alta California. In a few hours, its piercing rays would scorch the dried vegetation, burn the skin of the beasts, and narrow the rivers beds further, reducing them to mere streams.

Witnessing helpless the efforts of their whole life being shattered in a long and painful agony, the rancheros would raise desperate eyes toward the sky, and pray for a rain that did not want to come.

About forty miles north of the pueblo of Los Angeles, Don Alejandro's only son opened his eyes and prayed that he would be alive the next second.

"Don't move, de la Vega, if you don't want to unbalance the horse and dive into the void with it!" a harsh voice barked behind him.

The warning was not necessary.

Solidly bound on the horse's croup, Diego could not have moved a toe had he wished to. The only thing he could do was to stare, breath held, at the beast's hooves hitting the ground dangerously close to the edge of a narrow pathway overhanging a five hundred foot chasm. Carved on a rocky wall, it zigzagged toward the entrails of earth like a snake.

_Tł'iish... el serpiente... _

While his gaze was captivated by a small rock slide, the Indian name given to the winding track echoed in his mind. Like the stones, it fell, bounced and disappeared into the abyss of his memory.

Diego's sight started to blur, and whirl. His eyes narrowed and he blinked to fight the dizziness that hit him. But his breath shortened, and without noticing it, a dark veil swallowed him.

"_Don Diego! Don't jump in!"_ a young voice exclaimed behind him.

Stopping dead his movement, Diego glanced above his shoulder and saw an Indian boy staring at him, eyes wide with fear.

Disoriented, the young don looked at his feet, and frowned.

"Why's the river red this morning?" Diego heard his own, _younger _voice asking while he stared at his surroundings. He was standing on a grassy bank, with huge willow trees. Between the branches, he could see a white church tower and its massive bell.

_San Gabriele's mission..._.

Though it felt wrong, Diego felt captivated by the change in scenery. Yielding to the vision, he kneeled slowly and, unable to arrest himself, he touched the waters with his fingertips.

The child joined him.

"Grandfather says it comes red once every two or three generations. When the devil wakes up and decides to wash his door step," the boy replied, before adding in a whisper: "It's blood."

Diego hastily stepped back and wiped his fingers on his pants.

"Blood?" he repeated, half-disgusted half-incredulous, "Whose blood?"

Getting no answer, Diego turned his head and searched the high grass and bushes for the boy with an anxious glance.

"Tokala?"

It was as if the young boy's name had _jumped_ out of his mouth.

Heart beating fast in his chest, Diego raised his eyes to scan the trunks and long branches of the willow trees behind him. Maybe the playful boy was hiding in there? But not a branch, not a leaf moved, and in the lack of breeze, a stiffing warmness rose from the humid ground, freezing the nature around him in a sticky sweat.

"Tokala?" he cried again when the mission's bell suddenly echoed as loud as thunder.

Diego's eyes sprung open.

Breathless, he gasped for air, and blinked quickly to clear his sight. While the chasm came into focus, he hung on the remnants of his dream, certain that it was a memory, a glimpse on his childhood. If he were the same age as the young Indian boy when it had taken place, he must have been eight to ten years old, not much more... And Tokala? Who was he? The name certainly sounded friendly.

Feeling like his whole life was hanging on the tip of his tongue, Diego tried to coerce his mind to open. But when it stayed definitively closed, it took him all his will not to shout his rage and frustration.

Long minutes passed by before he could put aside his anger and realize that the chasm seemed less deep than when he had regained consciousness for the first time today. A knot in his guts, he stared at the void.

_The _bandidos_ have established their lair on the Devil's door step. Or worse. In the Devil's house itself... _he thought gravely.

Feeling a dull anguish rising, Diego swallowed a lump in his throat. His opinion about the place had not changed. They should not venture this path.

However, the rational part of his mind made him admit that, for renegades, it was a clever place to hide. Nobody would chase them there.

_Save for another Devil. _

That meant at least one of the _bandidos_ was from the region of Los Angeles to know about the curse hovering above the canyon. It had to be their chief. Only he could have enough authority and persuade his men to defy the superstition.

A searing pain pierced the young caballero's skull through and through, forcing him to bite his lips to keep a moan silent.

Diego took a deep breath to ease his nerves. Maybe he did not know who he was, but he recognized the places where he wandered, and as far as he could say, his brains were working. He had to trust himself that in the right moment, he would know what to do, and where to go.

Feeling confident again, Diego craned his neck to check who was in front of the horse preceding his. In a long straight line, he caught sight of the señorita's grey outfit, and of the other _bandido_. Worry for her rose. Opening the way in such a place and circumstances must be terrifying. But still, she was walking at a slow, but regular pace. A slow, regular pace creating a swaying that soon lulled the young don into a dark, dreamless sleep.

When he opened his eyes again, the sun was at its zenith.

"I need to rest," the señorita said, stopping in a recess as the path became wide enough for two horses to walk side by side.

"Alright, ten minutes, no more. We've got to reach the bottom before nightfall," the _bandido_ walking at the front said before heading toward Diego.

"You'll walk from here," he told him, "There are some narrow portions in front of us. It's safer for the horse not to be burden by your weight."

Diego raised his head, and sighed, not knowing if being untied was such a good idea.

Certainly it would be better to be free, but his body felt like one huge bruise, and he did not know if his numb limbs would take his weight. And as he expected, as soon as the ropes were cut, he fell to the ground like a miserable saddle bag under the giggling of their captors.

"Diego!" the señorita exclaimed, rushing toward him with worry.

Ashamed, he clenched his teeth and pushed on his hands to stand up.

"I'm fine," he winced, painfully dragging himself toward the rocky wall.

"Here... take it easy," she said, helping him to sit up.

Embarrassed by his display of weakness, Diego focused his gaze on his legs and rubbed them to get the blood flowing again.

"You two share this gourd until the end of the day," the _bandido_ who had freed him said curtly, giving the water to the young woman with a slight nod of the chin.

Too irritated to feel grateful by the move, Diego raised his eyes toward the man. In daylight, and without a scarf to hide his face, he could see that the man was not much older than twenty probably. A bit young for having such authority in the voice. But for a reason Diego ignored, it was his eyes that put him uneasy. Of an unusual icy blue, they showed a cold and sharp intelligence that told not to mess with him.

"Here, Diego, drink," the señorita said, approaching the gourd to his lips.

Realizing that he was staring at the man, Diego shook his thoughts away.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"How do you really feel, Diego? They knocked you so hard on the head yesterday, and after your fall, I was a-"

Reading fear in her eyes, Diego smiled faintly, and said, "Do not worry with me, señorita, I'm fine."

But his words caused the exact opposite effect.

"Señorita? But Diego... I'm Anna-Maria. Do you still not remember?"

Diego swallowed a lump in his throat, and a sigh of frustration escaped his lips.

"I'm surrounded by familiar landscapes... familiar faces too... But if you want to know how I truly feel, then I'm feeling like my whole life's hanging with me on the edge of this cliff," he said, opening himself and letting his torment show.

A silence fell, and Diego sighed again, now feeling bad to cause such distress on the young woman.

"How did I have the chance to know you?" he asked, changing the subject toward something he hoped to be more pleasant. Their encounter should raise lighter feelings.

A charming and intriguing smile appeared on the señorita – _Anna-Maria'_s – face.

"You arrived one morning in my father's house, and blankly asked him to prove his loyalty to Spain and honesty to you."

Diego felt his jaw falling to the ground while all blood left his face. Madre di Dios! He had insulted her father?!

Anna-Maria laughed softly. "You asked, I told you, but don't make such a pitiful face, Diego, I-"

"Sorry to interrupt this charming talk but we have to go," the _bandido_ with icy blue eyes cut, grabbing Anna-Maria by the arm and hauling her up on her feet without care.

"Hey!" she cried, undignified by such treatment.

Under the pulse of anger, Diego stood up to protest. But as he was doing so, a moving shadow in the sky caught his glance. His breathing shortened, and a slight shaking seized his limbs.

"Diego?"

He heard Anna-Maria calling his name several times, but he found it impossible to avert his eyes from the bird of prey which hovered, circled, rose in the air, circled down again...

"Don Diego?" a young voice called.

Startled, Diego jerked his head straight, causing him pain in his neck.

The young Indian from the mission was standing next to him.

Heart beating wildly in his chest, Diego gulped down his saliva, and narrowed his eyes.

"Tokala?" he asked, breathless and disoriented.

"Maybe we shouldn't do that... Grandfather will be angry if he learns that we went down," the young boy whispered, as if he was afraid to be overheard.

Like in his dream a little while earlier, the words flowed out of his mouth all by themselves.

"Come on! You said it happens once every sixty years or so. We may never get the chance again to explore this area and find out what really makes the river red," Diego replied, pursuing his descent on the stiff and narrow pathway.

A black shadow suddenly flew by them while a high-pitched, tearing shriek tore the sky. Like Tokala, Diego hastily flattened against the rocky wall when he felt a hand clenching around his arm, and held him tight. He resisted, but something hit him square in the ribs, causing a flashing pain.

"Wake up, de la Vega!"

"You brute, leave him alone!"

Diego's eyes fluttered quickly, and Anna-Maria's face suddenly appeared in front of him, upset with worry.

_What just happened?_ he wondered, breathless.

Unbalanced by the fast return to reality, the young don looked quickly at his surroundings, haunted by the vision. Was it another shard of memory that had just sprung out of nowhere? What had triggered it?

_The bird... _It was still gliding a hundred yards on their right, fifty feet down, just above what looked like the top of a high cliff growing like a chimney from the ground. The path was heading toward the rocky formation that Diego knew formed with the cliff where he stood, a narrow gorge in which the sun rays never penetrated.

A certainty then imposed itself to the young don. He had already gone down. With the young Indian boy.

The barrel of the cannon digging in the small of his back jerked Diego away from his thoughts.

"Now move on, de la Vega. We lost enough time," Blue-eyes threatened.

Shivering, his hazel eyes not leaving the bird of prey, Diego straightened and pushed on his hands to stand up. During his daydream session, he must have fallen to the ground without noticing it.

As he moved to take the first position in their _roped-less_ party, Blue-eyes restrained his arm.

"Don't try anything foolish, de la Vega. There's only one way to go up, and an even a quicker one to go down," he warned. To enhance the threat, the other _bandido_ attracted the señorita against him.

A small cry of surprise escaped her lips.

Lips sealed by anger and thirst, Diego nodded gravely, meeting Anna-Maria's scared eyes in the same breadth. Through his gaze, he tried to send her a little comfort.

_Everything will be fine, I promise,_ he mentally said, before focusing back his attention on the rocky, uneven path.

The next part of the descent revealed itself even more dangerous than the first. Before long, the tension reduced everybody to silence, each focusing to carefully put one's foot in front of the other. The horses skidded several times, causing rock slides that echoed longly. And on a particularly steep, bending curve, the one which Diego held the bridles stopped dead on the track, and started to kick backward.

A cry of terror reverberated.

_Anna-Maria! _Diego gasped.

Breath held, he let go the bridle and seized the horse by the bit to force it to calm down, while from the corner of his eyes, he saw Blue-eyes grabbing the señorita's arm out of reflex just as she plunged toward the void.

Obviously shaken by her near death experience, the young woman rested her head in the man's shoulder, nervously grabbing his arm. A strike of jealousy darkened Diego's relief, and he turned back his gaze on the path to control his emotions.

Silent, he continued to go down into the entrails of earth, racking his brain to search what danger lay in front of them.

It took them two hours to reach the gorge. The sky was barely visible. Like a flash of lightning, it spread overhead, bringing just enough light to show them the path. The void on the other hand was frighteningly dark.

With soothing encouragements, and solid tugs on the bridles, they managed to get the horses to follow into the shadows.

Realizing that he did not hear the roar of turbulent waters below him, Diego focused his attention on listening to any whistling or rubbing sound that would reveal the presence of a snake or another animal near them.

How long did it take them to cross the gorge? Diego could not say. Slowly, he lost track of a time that seemed to cease to flow at its usual pace, as if an unnatural, evil mugginess thickened the air, and made it more and more difficult to move on. As the beasts' nerves started to fail, the walls spread further from one another, letting more light in.

Suddenly, the ground appeared, less than four feet down, while in front of them, the sun rays revealed a hundred-foot wide valley with an uneven, rocky ground as red as blood where small, thorny bush trees grew.

Far from being relieved, Diego stopped dead in his track and retracted one step to stay in the darkness.

In his mind an alert blared, as dull as if all the mission's bells were ringing together.

With an irritated groan, Blue-eyes pushed him against the wall and jumped on the ground to move in front of him, a small mirror in hand.

While the _bandido_ waved the mirror, sending a signal, Diego's gaze scanned the red rocks in search for _something. _Though he did not know what it was, he somehow knew _it_ would be there.

"Where's the sentinel?" Blue-eyes'compañero whispered from behind. "I don't like that..."

While the _bandido_ put the mirror back in his pocket, Diego let go of the horse, and slowly moved back to join the señorita.

"You're not paid to like but to obey!" Blue-eyes shot back, disdainful, "Watch the prisoners!"

"Sí... Señor," the man replied, spitting his words.

With their rear blocked, Diego mentally cursed, and watched Blue-eyes, gun in hand, carefully walking toward a large cluster of rocks, about a dozen feet high, standing in the middle of what looked like a dried river bed.

"We shouldn't stay here," Diego said, casting a nervous glance at the sky to determine how fast the night would fall. "We still have time to-"

As Blue-eyes reached the top of the rocks, he shouted, "Come here give me a hand! All of you now!"

"You heard the boss' brother, de la Vega," the _bandido_ barked, digging his rifle in the señorita's back.

Diego met Anna-Maria's eyes, but unlike before, he was unable to send her any comfort through his hazel eyes.

As he saw Blue-eyes throwing small rocks away, and dislodging some bigger quickly, Diego took a deep breath. Jaws tightly clenched, he jumped down the ground and turned back to offer his hand to the señorita.


	9. Chapter 9

_An apple for Tornado _

_Chapter 9_

* * *

"No, you stay here. You – Stay... Ahh! Don't force me to knock you!"

Alerted by Sergeant Garcia's tenor voice coming from the patio, Don Alejandro turned his head toward the sala's window to see what was causing such mayhem. His nerves, tensed by a sleepless night, were too frayed to bear the sound of discord in his own house.

His eyes widened of surprise upon seeing Bernardo standing below the large tree that offered a frail shadow in this early morning.

Despite his long ride yesterday, the old don was not able to find Diego's manservant_. _He had come back to the hacienda after nightfall, tormented by one question: had Diego been kidnapped along with Anna-Maria and the doctor, or was he out giving chase to the _bandidos_ in Zorro's clothes?

If it was the case, it might be wise to let Zorro rescue the prisoners alone, for their sudden presence at an ill-timed moment risked to burden the clever outlaw, causing his capture or worse, his death. But if he were a prisoner too? Who would come to his help?

Without Bernardo's insights, Don Alejandro was at a loss about what to do.

His nerves had finally chosen for him when Don Nacho had come to the hacienda to propose his help. Sitting and waiting while mortal danger was at his house's gate was not carved in his flesh. His friends knew this better than himself.

As Don Alejandro stepped out of the sala and into the patio, his boiling blood eager to leave for the rescue made him sigh of annoyance upon seeing the sergeant turning imploring eyes toward him.

"Ah! Please, Don Alejandro, can you explain to Bernardo that he can't join us?"

"I cannot, Sergeant. We need all possible help. He is coming with us," the old don replied, now certain that his son was prisoner. Otherwise, why would Zorro's _aide-de-camp_ want to search for his master?

"I understand that, Don Alejandro, but I fear he will be more of a burden than a help. The man doesn't hear a thing and it's really difficult to communicate with him. What if we have to hide all of a sudden and-"

"Then you can be sure he will not betray our presence by talking."

"Er... Oh! You're right... but-"

"The matter is closed, Sergeant. Let's go now, we lost enough time," Don Alejandro cut, gently tapping Bernardo's shoulder and, pointing with his finger the patio's gate, enjoined him to follow.

As he reached the gate, a twinge of his heart seized him and he turned on his heels to send a tense nod to Anna-Maria's father. Like decided, his friend was staying at the hacienda in case the _bandidos _sent an emissary with a ransom request.

Losing no time, Don Alejandro cleared a path in the middle of a crowd of a dozen soldiers and as many vaqueros, and joined Don Nacho who was holding his horse's bridle. As he mounted shouts reverberated.

"Don Alejandro! Don Alejandro!"

Startled, the old don quickly scanned the landscape and frowned. Why was Pepito riding toward him with such haste, to the risk of dismounting on the rocky ground? It could not be good. There was fear and urgency in his voice.

Tense, Don Alejandro kicked his horse and broke in a gallop toward the young boy.

"What is it, Pepito?" he asked, terrified by the look of dread on the child's face.

"There's a body..." Pepito said, panting, "In a ravine near the river!"

"A body?" Don Alejandro whispered, his own breath taken away by a sudden grasp on his heart. The sound of hooves coming toward him made him cast a look above his shoulder. Don Nacho, Sergeant Garcia and the others were joining him.

"Whose body, Pepito?" he asked, barely able to keep his voice from shaking.

"I don't know, Don Alejandro, I was too far away to see. Benito immediately sent me to fetch you and the soldiers."

The old don took a deep breath to control a wave of panic. "Pronto, Pepito. Show us the way."

Under the burning sun, Don Alejandro rode close behind the young vaquero, trying the best he could to control his mind from wandering on the sliding realms of speculations. However, when appeared in the distance the hill behind which the river flooded, his breath suddenly got stuck in his throat, crushed by the wraith of an unbearable pain.

And if it were Diego the vaqueros had found?

Feeling its master's nervous state, Isabella rose slightly on her rear legs, and neighed. Unable to pronounce soothing words, Don Alejandro tightened the bridle and kicked her sides. At a gallop, caballero and mount crossed the plain of dried grass and bushes, and without weakening the pace, climbed the rocky hill. As the duo came closer to the top, the clearer the sound of cattle sounded. Too preoccupied, Don Alejandro barely noticed it. But at the corner of a large rock that concealed the view, he suddenly tugged on the bridles to force his horse to stop, shaken by the sight of the chaos boiling near the river.

In the middle of a thick fog of dust, vaqueros tried desperately to control a herd of a hundred cattle in prey of a visible panic.

The ranchero in Don Alejandro frowned, deeply troubled as he tried to make some sense out of the turmoil stretching under his eyes. Why were the vaqueros keeping the cattle from reaching the river? Why did they not let the beasts quench their thirst?

Attracted by some movement on his right, Don Alejandro shook his head to call himself back to order, and saw Pepito heading toward a man standing apart, about seventy yards away. A lump formed in the old don's throat as he recognized his head vaquero, Benito, kneeling next to someone that was lying on the ground, behind a rock that concealed his upper body. Eyes frozen and jaws clenched by a dull anguish, he kicked his horse's belly, and rode down the slope. Alerted by Pepito's arrival, the vaquero rose to his feet and got up to meet him with haste.

"Benito? Is it my son you found? Is it Diego?" Don Alejandro asked, dismounting in haste.

"No, Don Alejandro, it's Doctor Avilla. He's alive but seriously injured. A gun shot in the shoulder."

Feeling a terrible weight disappearing from his chest, Don Alejandro leaned a hand on his horse, and in a shallow breath, he could not keep himself from whispering a _gracias a dios_.

By the time he gathered his senses, the rest of the rescue party had joined them. As he walked with Don Nacho and Benito toward the still limbs of the doctor, he heard the sergeant's tenor voice barking:

"Muchachos? Go around and gather all the wood you can to makeshift a stretcher."

The old don did not need to turn his head to know that the order was promptly obeyed. The ground immediately vibrated under the horses' hooves as the soldiers headed toward the trees bordering the river.

Heart still beating fast in his chest, Don Alejandro kneeled next to the doctor, and felt a shudder running down his spine. By the sight of the large blotch on his shirt and vest, the doctor had lost a great deal of blood. At least the bleeding had stopped, and his trustworthy head vaquero had given the doctor all possible care under the circumstances.

"What's going on with the cattle?" Don Nacho asked, rising a hand over his eyes not to be blinded by the sun.

"It's the river," Benito replied, glancing worriedly at the waters in the distance, "It's red, as if the doctor has poured all his blood into it."

At these words, Don Alejandro rose to his feet, feeling his eyes widening out of dread.

"What?" the sergeant barked, incredulous, "How come, blood?!"

"It's only a metaphor, Sergeant. Benito could as easily said as red as wine," Don Alejandro explained, joining the three men who stared anxiously at the landscape.

Don Alejandro shook his head, before sighing heavily. Now he understood the cattle's obvious panic. This couldn't happen at worse a time.

"Benito, take this herd to the pool with the others. Let's hope that it will be enough to sustain all our beasts until the river comes back to normal."

The vaquero nodded, and moved away toward his horse to join his fellow compañeros.

"Sergeant Garcia?"

"Sí, Don Alejandro?"

"Take the doctor to Fray Felipe at the mission as fast and gentle as you can. He's the only one who knows how to treat bullet wounds in the pueblo now."

"Fast and gentle... sí, Don Alejandro," the sergeant repeated, scratching his head, obviously perplexed.

Don Alejandro was about to explain, but sighed of annoyance and let go. There was more important matters to tend to than to teach nuance to the soldier right now.

"And send your men back to the pueblo. The last time the river came red, the source in the plaza came out the same color. People panic easily."

"Oh! I would panic too if water became as red as wine but still tasted like water..." the sergeant replied, shaking his head out of dread before adding, "But can I ask what do you intend to do now, Don Alejandro?"

"To find my son and the Señorita Verdugo, Sergeant," the old don said, catching sight of Bernardo. Slightly in retreat, the deaf-mute was livid.

Don Alejandro frowned. Why was Diego's servant staring so fearfully at the river? Besides, it was not Diego they had found. Bernardo should on the contrary be relieved. Unless... Not for the first time, Don Alejandro wondered if his clever son had silenced the fact that Bernardo could read lips. This way, the servant could be aware of more things than he was giving the impression, and inform Zorro of what careless people could slip in his presence. Yes, definitively, there was more than meets the eyes with Bernardo.

"I guess nothing I say can make you change your mind?"

"No, indeed, Sergeant," Don Alejandro said, mounting on his horse, and tugging on the bridles to turn the beast's head back toward the top of the hill.

"I'll go with you, Alejandro," Don Nacho said, mounting his horse and joining his side.

"But your rancho? You need to order your vaqueros to lead your cattle away to another source of water."

"I'm sure my vaqueros already know, and anyway, like me you know full well that by tomorrow morning, not a single river in the region will be safe. Like drought, it's a stroke of fate we have to accept," Don Nacho said, the gaze lost on the river. The don shook his head, obviously resigned. Then, he raised his eyes toward Don Alejandro, and added, "My friend, if not for Diego's help the night Monastario came with his soldiers to my hacienda, I would never have escaped alive. I own him a life's debt."

A faint smile appeared on Don Alejandro's face as proudness rose for his son.

He remembered Nacho telling him, while they shared the cell in the presidio two years ago, how Diego had given him the idea to take the unconscious capitán's uniform to escape his circled hacienda, and how Zorro had intervened to insure his runaway shortly after.

The tale of this night had much troubled him in the following months, each time he witnessed Diego demonstrating a particular will to play guitar or read all day long, often late into the evening. How was it possible that his lazy scion who pretended being interesting by nothing save for music and poetry could suddenly demonstrate such a witty spirit in a tricky situation? And Zorro's sudden appearance on the road to make sure Diego's subterfuge was not in vain, how could it be a simple coincidence?

"Gracias, mi amigo," Don Alejandro said, watching Bernardo, a few feet behind them on his horse, waiting.

With a grateful nod, the old don kicked his horse, and began to climb back up the hill.

Indeed, he could be proud of his son. Diego's kindness and natural leadership as a child had never left him. How clever he had been to make everyone – and especially his father! – think that he was some kind of a popinjay, swaying all possible doubt in the people's mind that he could be the famous outlaw.

Maintaining as fast a pace as they could without taxing their mounts' strength, the three men rode toward the fault and the narrow path called _el Serpiente_. At some point during the afternoon, the slight breeze that blew since the morning strengthened. But warm and humid, it did not bring the caballeros much comfort. And as the sun lowered on the horizon, Don Alejandro's thoughts darkened.

Fifteen years ago, with Fray Felipe, Tokala's grandfather, and the _commandante _of the garrison, Don Alejandro had ridden in the same direction. Many soldiers and peones had joined also to find the two missing children, but most of them had given up when the track had lead to _el Serpiente_.

After two days and one terrible night, the _commandante_ had found Diego, huddled up on a narrow and rocky platform overhanging a two-hundred foot chasm at the bottom of which a raging river flood. Shivering under his clothes, soaked by a sticky, red mud, but otherwise unhurt, save for minor scratches, his nine-year-old intrepid boy had been too exhausted to climb the last fifty feet to the top.

A few days later, when rest had given back color to his cheeks, Diego had told him that his native friend had been taken away by the sudden rise of the waters, and disappeared in a raging river. He had never seen his boy more terrified than this day.

Shortly after, the _commandante_ announced that the troop of a dozen soldiers who, at the same period, performed training maneuvers at bottom of the canyon had drown the same way.

But for the natives, it was _el Diablo_ who had taken the soldiers and the young boy, before pouring their blood in the peaceful river flooding behind the mission. A warning not to ever go down again. And as if it were not enough, a plague had stricken the pueblo in the following days, adding sixteen deaths to the toll.

Don Alejandro sighed, deeply worried.

Even if he was not one to believe in such superstitions, the canyon was obviously treacherous. He suspected that, despite the lack of clouds on the horizon, instant flooding occurred in certain areas and trapped whoever was at the bottom.

"By all saints..." suddenly whispered Don Nacho, yanking Don Alejandro back to the present, "Is this?..."

The old don halted his mount, narrowed his eyes to scan the horizon, and gasped.

Next to a clump of trees about a hundred yards in front of them, an all too familiar shadow could be seen. The one of a horse, standing up on its rear legs, and then striking the ground with its hooves. Like a black devil, it silhouetted against the reddening sky.

"Zorro?" Don Nacho whispered. There was eagerness and hope in his voice. A hope that suddenly found an echo in Don Alejandro's heart.

Near the trees, the black stallion stopped kicking, and stared in their direction. Suddenly, he broke off in a gallop toward them. While the three men moved their horses to get out of the way, to their great surprise, the stallion stopped a few feet from them, and neighing, moved to dig his nose into Bernardo's side.


	10. Chapter 10

_AN: Muchas gracias for your kind reviews :-) I'm greatly appreciating to know that you like the story.  
_

* * *

_An apple for Tornado_

_Chapter 10_

* * *

Blowing a warm breath out of his nostrils, the black stallion neighed and kicked the ground, transferring his nervousness to the other horses. His dark skin, greyish with dust on the legs and sides, glowed under a thick layer of sweat that betrayed a wild ride in the rocky hills.

Don Alejandro stared at the fiery steed digging his nose into Bernardo's side. Standing straight in his saddle, the latter worriedly glanced at him and Don Nacho, shrugging his shoulders, obviously at a loss about what to do.

For a moment, Don Nacho's mouth opened as if he were about to speak, but no word came out to break the uneasy silence.

"It's strange, I don't see Zorro," the don finally said, turning his head away to scan the horizon from where the black stallion had sprung.

Relieved that his long time friend did not question the deaf-mute servant for now, Don Alejandro took a deep breath to ease his heart, and stared at the rocky landscape. No, they would not find Zorro here. If he needed another proof that his son was in great peril, the stallion had just brought it to his attention: he was not saddled. Whatever the hurry, Diego would never have mounted bare back.

The horse neighed again, and kicked the ground, getting obviously impatient not to get any reaction from Bernardo.

Don Alejandro sighed. He too shared Diego's manservant's dismay in front of such a tricky situation. They were so close to revealing Zorro's identity. At least the red waters of the river had caused a drastic reduction of the rescue party, and come to think of it, the presence of Don Nacho at their sides was the least problematic scenario that could arise. As a true caballero, his friend would never betray his son's secret identity.

Suddenly, the Black grabbed Bernardo's horse's bridles in his own mouth and tugged.

"Looks like he wants to show us something," Don Nacho said, aghast to see Zorro's stallion guiding Bernardo's horse toward a clump of trees growing fifty yards on their right.

Upon reaching the trees, the three men dismounted, and leaving their horses attached to some lower branches, they followed the stallion through thorny bushes.

Don Alejandro stepped into a well concealed, twenty-foot wide clearing in which center stood a few half burnt branches and ashes. Frowning, he kneeled to touch the rocky dust.

Even with the lowering light, it was obvious to see that a fight had occurred here. As his fingers brushed a stone large like a fist, Don Alejandro felt worry wrenching his guts. The dark stain could only be dried blood.

A knock in his back almost made him lose his balance. As Don Alejandro craned his neck, he felt the moist nostrils of the Black brushing his cheek. Lips drawn back to bare teeth, the horse smelled the tainted stone, neighed, and suddenly kicked the ground.

Afraid to be struck by a hoof, the old don rose to his feet and grabbed the beast's mane.

"Calm down," he told the Black, patting him on his shoulder as a painful lump formed in his throat. His son was hurt. The steed knew it.

Jaws tightly clenched, the old don stroked the horse's nose, finding it soothed him too.

Somehow, the beast sensed his master's predicament, a kind of sixth sense that pushed him to search for him, to come to his help. Such a strong bond – _a fusion_ – between mount and caballero was a rare privilege. Diego must have put a lot of himself into training this magnificent steed.

A soft chuckle escaped the don's lips as a particular memory rose from his drained and worried mind.

He remembered knocking on Diego's room quite early one morning, and being pleased to find him not only awake, but preparing himself with an energy he had not demonstrated since his return from Spain.

Intrigued, he had questioned him about his night and learned that it had been as quiet and peaceful as a lonely cloud lost in a clear blue sky – a storm had raged all night if he remembered correctly, thunder shaking the hacienda's windows. How could his son have slept so sound not to hear nature's ire?

However, too glad to see at last a genuine sparkle of life in Diego's hazel eyes, he had swayed his trouble and asked him to come with him to the pueblo for business.

Alas! As usual, his hope to spark off an interest in his son toward a ranchero's obligations had failed.

Don Alejandro felt his jaw falling again as he remembered his son's apology.

_Daydreaming!_

With a straight face, Diego had explained to him how daydreaming was a critical activity for poets as it was in these peaceful moments that inspiration arose, even going to the extent of citing the case of a physicist, who while he was sleeping under an apple tree, was knocked by a falling fruit on the head, and made a discovery that revolutionized mankind's understanding of earth.

It was not an apple that had fallen on Don Alejandro's head upon hearing such praise to idleness; even the sky would not have felt as heavy.

His son, this turbulent child who never had enough time in a day to ride and explore the hills or play with the other children at the mission, was now burning with impatience to go and sleep under a tree!

Don Alejandro shook his head, smiling despite himself.

Now he understood the shining gleam in his son's hazel eyes. He too would have shown a great enthusiasm to go and train this magnificent steed in hiding.

Though he still felt slightly irritated by Diego's way to mess with him, what an intriguing life his son had built around him. Ah, if only he still had half his youth, he would die to join him in his quest for justice!

"Quite a beautiful animal, isn't it?" Don Nacho said, joining him next to the horse's side. "I rode him once, the night Zorro set me free from the presidio. Though riding is maybe too strong a term. I felt more like a saddle bag on him. Obeying his master's order, he took me to the mission without ever slowing his remarkable pace despite the darkness, jumping over obstacles I could not see. It was the first time in my life I felt relieved upon dismounting! Like a shadow, he disappeared in the darkness without a sound. It certainly takes more than a skilled caballero to tame this strength of nature."

Don Alejandro smiled, admiring, as Don Nacho grabbed firmly his shoulder, and said:

"Today my friend, the honor I'm granted with is even more important than I had first thought. It's a true privilege to help the man who gave up his life to protect us all from tyranny."

Don Alejandro's heart jumped in his chest, but upon seeing the echo of his own pride for his son gleaming in Don Nacho's eyes, he grabbed his friend's arm, and nodded.

"A great honor indeed, my friend," he replied, certain that Don Nacho would rather die than to reveal Diego's secret identity.

The Black suddenly neighed, and moved away from them just as Bernardo appeared, jumping from a thick bush, as agitated as the horse.

"What is it, Bernardo?" Don Alejandro asked when the deaf-mute signaled with a wave of his arm to follow him outside of the cover of bushes.

A few seconds later, Don Alejandro shook his head, displeased.

"Ah... I should have known that our good sergeant's friendship toward Diego would push him to join us whatever the situation," he said.

"He must not find Zorro's horse here with us," Don Nacho added, alarmed. "I'll go meet him, and try to delay him enough so the stallion can gallop safely away."

"Gracias," Don Alejandro replied, moving back toward into the bushes.

Though it was doubtful the sergeant would be able to deduce that Diego was Zorro, he would nonetheless recognize the stallion, and see there an opportunity to catch the outlaw. They had to keep the soldier at bay as much as possible.

"Go away, now," Don Alejandro ordered the horse.

But the stallion did not move, no matter how many waves of arms joined the injunction.

"No wonder Diego chose you, you're as stubborn as him!" he groused, unhappy by his lack of success.

The sound of something heavy falling on the ground behind him attracted Don Alejandro's attention. Still trying to make the horse move, the old don cast a quick look above his shoulder, and saw Bernardo from the corner of the eye. But too preoccupied by the tremendous task to impose his will over the beast's, he discarded the information. Until his brain registered a detail. Bernardo was staring at him mouth opened, eyes round of surprise.

Three realizations then struck the old don in a quick sequence, causing him to freeze on the spot.

The first was that he had thought aloud about Diego's identity as Zorro. The second, even more dreadful, was that to have such a dumbfounded expression on his face, Bernardo must have read the words on his lips. And last but not least, being behind him, the deaf-mute could not have read the words on his lips.

Coming to light, the next realization caused him to close his eyes, and mutter a curse against himself.

Bernardo was not deaf.

If a chair would have been near him, the old don would have collapsed on it as his legs swayed under his weight. In this instance, his hand grasped the Black's mane again, and he sought support on the beast's side.

_What a subterfuge..._ he thought, aghast, as he stared at Diego's manservant standing, shocked, in front of him.

After a few tense seconds, Don Alejandro suddenly smiled. Definitively, his son knew how to shuffle the cards. As Bernardo's expression changed from shock to interrogation, Don Alejandro sighed. He too had some explaining to do. But not now, the horse had to leave before Garcia arrived.

"Bernardo, I'll explain later to you since when I'm aware of Diego's identity, but can you please tell this horse to ride away?"

The manservant nodded, and crouched to retrieve a bag on the ground that he hung around the Black's neck.

"Zorro's costume?" Don Alejandro asked, keeping his voice low.

Bernardo nodded again, pointed two fingers in front of him before closing his hand and waving an imaginary whip.

"Alas, you cannot speak..."

Bernardo shrugged his shoulder, looking sorry.

"You put a pistol and a whip in this bag too?"

The servant smiled, happy to be understood.

Don Alejandro shook his head, not feeling as relieved as he should be. A gun could be handy to eliminate a single opponent, or be used to threaten, but it fired only once. If he was surrounded, Diego would not have the upper hand long with such a weapon. A whip... in a dual with another one, why not? Zorro had shown his mastery of the weapon in many fights. No... something else remained missing.

In a sudden and vivacious move that made Bernardo jump a few feet backward, the old don took out his sword. The long, finely chased silver blade glinted in the setting sun. Sí, this was it. His son would need the ancestral weapon – a present from the King to his own grandfather – more than him.

With an urgency caused by the sudden echo of the sergeant's tenor voice not far away, Don Alejandro hastily put back the sword into its silver and leather case, removed it from his waist, and hung it around the Black's neck.

Then, Bernardo pointed vigorously away with his finger, giving the horse the order to gallop away. The fiery steed neighed, rose on his rear leg slightly, and obeyed.

_Indeed, what a magnificent beast,_ Don Alejandro thought, admiring the wild stallion disappearing in the setting sun just as Garcia's voice sounded behind the bushes on the other side of the camp.

"The doctor regained consciousness just long enough to tell me where the _bandidos_ had taken them last night," the Sergeant said.

From the corner of the eye, Don Alejandro assured himself that Zorro's mount could not be seen anymore, and patting Bernardo on the shoulder, he walked to meet Don Nacho and the imposing soldier.

"If I'm right, you'll need all possible help. This is a cursed place..."

"Come on, Sergeant," Don Alejandro intervened, "A valiant soldier like you should not believe old wives' tales."

"I don't know if I believe or not in these tales, Don Alejandro, but there is one thing I do believe in. My duty. And my duty orders me that I must find Don Diego and the Señorita Verdugo," the sergeant replied, his gaze serious. The soldier paused a second to mop his sweaty forehead, before adding, "In fact, I don't believe in curses anymore. Not since Zorro played on us a bad trick at San Gabriele using a ridiculous tale of a mad monk haunting the mission-"

"It will get dark soon, and our horses are tired after such a day," Don Nacho cut, dismounting at his turn.

Don Alejandro nodded, catching in his friend's eyes the silent request to give Zorro's stallion a leg up.

"Sergeant?"

"Sí, Don Alejandro?"

"Come, you'll tell us more about this _bad_ _trick_ Zorro played on your behalf around the campfire," he said, waving him to step into the bushes.

"Around the campfire? What campfire?" Garcia asked, suddenly ill at ease.

"We'll camp here for tonight," Don Alejandro replied, amused by the shadow of fear in the soldier's eyes.

"Ah! Muy bien, Don Alejandro. This ride has indeed exhausted my horse..." the Sergeant replied, wincing as he swallowed a lump in his throat.

As Garcia, Bernardo and Don Nacho penetrated the bushes, the old don raised his eyes toward the soft moon rising on the horizon above the canyon. Deep in his soul, he knew the Black would not stop before finding his master.


	11. Chapter 11

_An apple for Tornado _

_Chapter 11_

* * *

Sweating profusely, Diego rolled a heavy rock away from the man who was buried into the ground to the neck.

That the poor bloke was still alive was a miracle, or a curse, depending on the extent of his injuries. Half-conscious, he was mumbling incoherent thoughts and did not seem aware of their presence.

Despite his animosity, Diego felt revolted. He would not wish such a long and painful agony to his worst enemy, if he had any. Moved by pity, he pushed and removed the rocks with as much care as his tired limbs allowed him to work.

A piercing shriek tore the crushing silence.

Diego straightened on his knees, and raised his eyes toward the evening sky.

A cold shudder ran down his spine as he saw a bird of prey gliding above their heads like a bad omen. His eyes followed the slender shadow above the red rocks of the steep-sided valley. The rugged landscape, carved by a river, captured the young don's gaze as surely as an invisible spider web.

Diego felt his guts clenching.

Why was this place having such an effect on him?

If he listened to his instinct, he would get up, grab the señorita and run back to _El_ S_erpiente_ without losing a second on looking above his shoulder like a hunted prey. This reaction deeply troubled him, and it took him a great deal of an effort to keep his muscles still.

At a loss, Diego let out a tense sigh, and searched for the señorita.

Sitting a few feet away, an elbow propped on one knee, her head resting in her hand, she had the gaze lost on thin air.

To see her so _lifeless_ overwhelmed him.

Where was her exhausted brain taking her right now? Was she still hoping for this mysterious outlaw, el Zorro, to come to her rescue?

Diego felt his jaw clenching tight as a wave of jealousy rose upon recalling the señorita's suave voice whispering the man's name. But it transformed quickly into anger – an anger that was directed against himself.

Since yesterday, he could only rely on his feelings to decide what he should do or where to go. The least he could say was that it had not turned out very well.

He could not let himself be driven by emotions anymore.

No matter how hurt his ego was, he had to admit that he should have listened to the señorita last night and fetched this Señor Zorro, whoever he was. Suffering from a head trauma strong enough to cause him to lose his mind, there would have been no shame for him to seek help. The outlaw could have been a precious ally.

The shadow of the bird caught his eyes again.

For the first time since the _bandidos_ had sprung at the hacienda's door, Diego's burning will to fight flickered, and like the flame of a candle under a snuffer, it died when the weight of his exhaustion and ordeal crashed on him, giving way to a deep pessimism.

Death seemed an inevitable fate now. The bird of prey knew it. It was only a question of time, and patience.

"De la Vega!" Blue-eyes barked.

Startled, Diego quickly turned his head toward the _bandidos_, and saw the buried man leaning in his brother's arms, the legs free of rocks.

The young don stared at them, aghast.

Too occupied digging the man out of his hole, they had not noticed his zoning out.

An opportunity to escape had arisen, and he had missed it!

A dirty look on the face, Blue-eyes raised his pistol toward the young don, and muttered: "Do I have to repeat myself?"

Furious, Diego unfolded his stiff body with a wince of pain and stood up.

Then, with the other _bandido's_ help, he seized the unconscious man under his armpits and lifted him. The sudden movement snatched the poor bloke a raspy moan of pain that the bird's high-pitched shriek covered.

Diego felt again a dull anguish seizing his guts. The brutal swing of mood stole his breath away. Now more than ever, they had to escape.

As he struggled to keep his balance on uneven ground, a sudden light sparkled in the young don's eyes. He might have missed one opportunity, but nothing kept him from creating another one. When he felt another rock rolling under his foot, Diego faked to skid, and collapsed, careful to absorb the impact for his charge.

"My ankle..." he whispered through clenched teeth, closing his eyes tight in an apparent agony.

"Stand up, you clumsy bastard!" Blue-eyes barked as he rushed toward him, his pistol aiming the young don's head.

Wanting to show good will, Diego obeyed only to miserably fall on the ground again. "I can't..." he moaned, summoning tears to flood his eyes.

"Ah! Move away. You're even more worthless than a wench!" Blue-eyes barked, returning his gun below his waist scarf at the same time he kicked Diego in his side to push him away.

Rolling on the ground, the young don ignored the pain and the humiliation for thrill made his blood pound faster in his veins. Blue-eyes was now turning his back to him in order to take care of his brother.

Still moaning, he seized a two-inch wide pebble when the señorita's worried cry echoed.

"Diego?!"

The young don quickly glanced above his shoulder and saw her rushing toward him.

But he did not have time to feel bad to cause her such a fright. As she was about to reach him, he suddenly leaped on his feet, and with all his strength, he punched Blue-eyes at the base of his neck with the fist holding the rock.

As the _bandido's_ body collapsed at his feet with a dull sound, Diego met his compañero's incredulous eyes. The latter immediately let go of the unconscious man in order to pull out one of the two pistols from under the waist scarf on his belly.

Faster, Diego threw the rock to his face, quickly jumped above the bodies at his feet, and punched the _bandido_ on the jaw. The man flew backward and his cry of pain strangled as he hit the dust.

Deeply satisfied by the result of the fight, Diego pivoted on his heels, and headed straight toward the señorita who was staring at him, both hands clenched in front of her mouth in shock.

Without a word, he grabbed her hand, and dragged her toward the narrow gorge. But he had not covered more than a few feet when he stopped, hesitant. Realizing that the night would trap them under its cloak before they reached the other side, Diego changed his mind, and, despite his aversion for the valley, he dragged the señorita with him in the dried river bed.

A shot exploded. Shards flew at their feet, snatching Anna-Maria a cry of terror.

As the echo spread between the cliffs, Diego pushed her in front of him, shielding her in case another bullet was fired to them. The valley made a sharp turn fifty feet ahead. As he made her speed up the rhythm to reach its cover, a second shot echoed. Diego bit his lips upon feeling a sudden burn on his left arm.

As they reached cover a few seconds later, Diego risked a glance above his shoulder. Blue-eyes was on all fours, obviously struggling to regain his spirits. The other was heading toward them, moving with difficulty, holding his rifle.

"Let's go," he said, gently pushing the señorita to enjoin her to move forward.

"Diego? You're hurt!"

The young don cast a quick glance at his left arm, and winced. Thankfully, it was not as bad as it could have been. Though it troubled him. Either it had been a lucky shot, or the _bandido_ was a damned good shooter. Considering that both bullets had been fired while the man was under a blow to the head, the young don feared the second hypothesis was closer to the truth. They'd better stay out of his aim line.

"It's only a scratch. Now move," he said, wishing to put as much distance as possible between them and their pursuer. In an hour or so, the night would be their ally.

His gaze reading the rocks in anticipation to decide their path, Diego made them move forward in as quick a pace as the señorita could endure without risking hurting an ankle for real.

Forty long minutes passed by at this rhythm. The silence of the valley, more and more ominous the further they moved in, was only disturbed by the sound of pebbles rolling under their feet, and from time to time by a whistling gust of wind.

The young don frowned, worried to hear her breathing becoming more and more erratic. And so, he was prepared when her feet hit an unstable rock and skidded. He caught her by the arm and managed to keep her from hitting the ground.

"Please, Diego, I have to stop..." she whispered, out of breath in his arms.

The young don cast a nervous look all around him, listening to any sound that would indicate the vicinity of their pursuer. When only silence answered him, he nodded. The sun had settled now, and overhead, the sky was of a deep blue.

"Rest, Anna-Maria," he said, looking above his shoulder. "I'm going to ensure myself that this place is safe for the night."

The señorita straightened in his arms, sending him a pleading glance though no protestation came out of her delicate lips.

"Do not worry. Whatever happens, I swear to never leave you out of my sight," he added with a tense smile. Desperate to feel the contact of her lips against his, he grabbed her hand clung to his torn shirt, and put a kiss on its back. The smell of her skin brought him just the peace he needed.

In the half darkness, Diego saw Anna-Maria's eyes widening. She seemed about to say something, but she raised her fingers over her lips, and stared at him as if she was seeing him for the first time.

"I won't be long," he said, troubled by the confusion he read on her face. Then, he turned on his heels and headed toward some big rocks at the bottom of a very steep wall, scattered with small bushes.

A few minutes later, the young don was standing up on a flat rock forty feet up.

The warm wind blew the beads of sweat that pearled on his forehead while he scanned the hollow of the valley. To his dismay, he could not see more than fifty feet up while down, a large arch blocked the view.

No movement attracting his gaze, Diego raised his eyes to continue his ascension toward a platform forty feet on his left, from which he could attempt to reach the arch. He hoped that he would get a clear view of the valley from there.

Aware that darkness thickened very fast, he clung on rough edges and, flattening himself against the steep wall, he moved aside toward the platform.

But as he reached it, a wave of deep fear seized him, as violent as abrupt.

One knee on the ground, Diego took several deep breaths, trying to control an irrational panic that threatened to paralyze him, to make him curl into a ball like a frightened child.

Cold shudders running down his spine, he forced himself to raise his eyes toward the arch.

A searing pain pierced his brain through and through.

Diego closed his eyes tight as a dizzy turn hit him and the sour taste of bile burnt his throat. As his heart began to knock faster in his chest, all his muscles contracted at once and blurry flashes assaulted him. Flashes that were colored in blue, white, and grey. Ears ringing, Diego suddenly saw a streak of red springing into thin air and a body collapsing on a rock. It rolled toward him with glazed, wide-opened eyes.

As the young don spitted a mix of bile and saliva, he felt a hand covering his mouth. Startled, he immediately turned on his heels and punched whoever was behind him. But his fist only met with thin air while, caught by his sudden movement, he fell backward and into the void.

A shock on his back snatched Diego a moan of pain. He rolled above his shoulder, and found himself flat on his belly, skidding on the steep wall. His skin on his arms and chest scratched against the rough rocks as his shirt was torn, snatching him another moan. Desperate to halt his fall, he stretched his arms above his head to grasp anything that passed by. When he felt his feet passing through a bush, quickly, he grasped a branch, and felt a sudden jolt.

Legs dangling into the void, Diego tried to see how far he was from the bottom. But either it was too dark now, or his sight was still blurred. He could not say what lied beneath him. However, even if it was not high, the ground was too uneven to jump. He could not risk breaking a leg now. His sore limbs complaining at the ordeal, the young don pondered on his options when a voice startled him.

"Diego, give me your hand!"

The young don swiftly turned his head to his right where the sweet voice was coming.

_Tokala?_

"No. It's me, Anna-Maria."

Diego frowned, troubled. Had he spoken aloud?

"If you stretch your leg, you'll be able to reach the rock I'm standing on, Diego."

The young don shook his head to clear his confused mind. Now, he realized that he had just suffered another, very vivid, hallucination. There had been nobody with him on the platform.

Jaw clenched, he swung himself on the branch and, a second later, he joined the señorita easily.

"Don't make a habit to give me such a scare, Diego de la Vega," she said, curling herself against him.

Heart pounding, Diego closed his arms around her, wanting nothing more than to reassure her with a joke. But he could not summon any.

"We have to hide," he whispered, barely able to keep his voice from shaking.


	12. Chapter 12

_AN: Thank you so much for your reviews. I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate your support :-)  
_

* * *

_An apple for Tornado_

_Chapter 12_

* * *

Barely able to distinguish his surroundings, Diego crouched on the rock where he had joined Anna-Maria, and carefully slid down on the one just below them. His battered body complained at each movement, but he ignored the pain, and raised his arms to help the señorita getting down safely.

"We'll hide here until the morrow," he whispered, slowly sitting down and leaning his back with relief against the wall. He hoped the slight overhang above them and the wide shadows of rocks on their front and right side would be enough to protect them once dawn would unveil the arid valley.

Not letting go of his hand, the señorita settled against him, silent and shivering.

Realizing that the temperature had dropped, Diego put his arm around her shoulder and dragged her closer to him. Curled against him, her breathing eased, and soon became a soft caress on his neck.

The young don yawned, feeling his tiredness catching with him. But when his head fell forward, a sudden peak of adrenaline jolted him back straight, and sharpened his senses, for he did not want to yield to a sleep that he feared would be too sound. He had to stay alert.

To keep him awake, he thought again about his last vision. It worked. At once, Diego felt an iron grasp crushing his guts and his heart pounding faster. Uneasy, he shifted slightly to ensure of the solidity of the rock beneath him for he did not wish to be tossed over again.

After a few minutes, his breathing eased. Now confident that he would be able to control himself, Diego summoned the memory again. Who was the man he had witnessed the violent death?

His lingering headache strengthened, but he tried to ignore it and forced the haunting image to rise again. He had to know what peril threatened them. But when bile rose in his throat, he straightened to take deep breaths. His sudden movement stirred the señorita. A slight moan escaped her lips as she readjusted her position against him, seeking his warmness.

Not wishing to wake her up after these trying days, the young don froze until her breathing slowed again. Then, he carefully leaned back against the wall, and with a sigh of exhaustion, he stared at the deepening darkness.

And what if his memories never came back? What if he remained a stranger to himself for the rest of his life?

As Diego pondered the possibility of an eternal night, he started to find it more and more difficult to maintain his attention alert.

_Just five or ten minutes,_ he told himself when his eyelids transformed into lead, _no more... _

The young don fell asleep as one fall in a bottom-less, black well: with a feeling of vertigo. And when all physical awareness faded, his unconscious woke up, and made a wooden door appear. A front gate more exactly. A front gate opened on a patio bathed by a pleasantly warm sun.

A sudden thrill seized Diego who walked in without hesitation. An old man was there, arms opened, his face shining with a genuine joy that warmed the young don's heart, and drew a smile on his lips.

"I send a boy to Spain, and a man returns!" the old man proudly said, seizing Diego by the shoulders.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Come, my son. Your bedroom is ready and waiting for you," the old man replied, enjoining him to climb the stairs on his right.

Diego followed him to the hacienda's second floor, appreciating the fresh smell of flowers as he went up. A second later, the old man opened a door, and waved him to enter. Feeling happy, Diego stepped in and cringed, for he suddenly found himself in a noisy tavern.

"Some wine, Don Diego?"

The young don craned his neck to his left, and saw the sergeant smiling at him, a bottle of red wine in hand.

"No, gracias," Diego replied, perplexed.

"Are you ill, Don Diego? You seem a bit pale." The soldier said, worried, before adding, looking very serious: "You know wine is the best remedy man has ever invented."

Such praise to bender made the young don chuckle. "Please, be my guest, Sergeant. After such a trying day, you must be thirsty," he said, filling the soldier's glass.

"Oh, right you are, Don Diego. Muchas gracias," the soldier replied with a large smile that reduced his eyes to two small slits. "I should not tell you this, Don Diego, but it's the last time you will offer me a drink."

Diego frowned at the strange confession. It was dubious that the man would stop drinking any soon.

"What do you mean, Sergeant? I will always be glad to offer a glass of wine to a dear friend like you."

"But you won't need to buy me a drink anymore; for tonight, I will be rich enough to buy the tavern. Tomorrow morning, I will be the one to offer you a drink, Don Diego," the soldier announced, happy.

Raising an aghast eyebrow at the thought of drinking in the morning, Diego asked him how he counted to become a rich man.

"How come how, Don Diego!" he exclaimed with round, dumbfounded eyes, before pointing with a finger behind them. "With him, of course!"

Diego craned his neck and saw a notice on the wall next to the tavern's door. Eyes narrowed, he read it, and sighed, annoyed. It was a reward for the capture, dead or alive, of Zorro.

"I don't know. The man must be difficult to catch if he's worth two thousand pesos," he said, turning back his head.

"Oh! You have no idea, Don Diego. My feet hurt each time I think of him," he said, moving a hand to favor his back.

As the sergeant looked all around him in suspicion, the young don could not keep himself from chuckling. However, he bit his lips to hide his smile for he held the soldier and his friendship in great esteem, and did not wish to insult him.

Suddenly, Garcia bent forward and, behind the cover of his hand, whispered:

"The _commandante_ has set an ingenious trap to catch him. This time, Don Diego, I won't let Zorro slip out of my fingers."

The confidence made the young don raise a dubious eyebrow. "For your capture of Zorro, then," Diego said, pouring himself a glass of wine and raising it in the air.

Horrified by the loud toast, the sergeant's eyes widened.

"Shh! Don Diego!" he whispered, indicating with a slight nod of the chin that someone was close.

Perplexed, the young don cast a look above his shoulder, and frowned upon seeing two men sitting at the next table. Though they were whispering, he clearly heard one of them pronouncing the outlaw's name before passing on the table an eagle's feather to his compañero. A feather strangely shaped on one side, as if someone had cut it with scissors.

The young don's heart started to pound faster.

One of the men, an arrogant looking notable with grey hair, sideburns and a brown frock coat, then raised dark eyes toward him.

"Buenas tardes, Don Diego," the notable said, standing up.

"Buenas tardes, Magistrado," Diego replied with a tense smile, and a polite nod.

As the notable headed toward the tavern's door and walked out, Diego watched his compañero moving to the bar. Troubled, he embraced the crowd of his glance. Something was making him uneasy, but what? He felt trapped. His eyes widened when, despite the general hubbub, he realized that Zorro was in every person's mouth.

The tavern waitress' clear voice startled him. Soon, the sergeant's reverberated.

_Again_... he sighed upon hearing the dispute over the soldier's unpaid bill.

He was about to pay for the wine when the sounds of swords suddenly clashed on the mezzanine floor. The waitress uttered a shriek of terror as a man rolled down the stairs and flattened on his belly at the bottom, dead.

"Zorro!" the sergeant exclaimed, standing up so fast that his chair was knocked away against another table.

"Señores!" a voice replied.

Fists clenched, Diego raised his eyes and saw a man, dressed in black from head to toe, thrusting from the guardrail to catch the round chandelier that swayed under his weight. With agility, the outlaw jumped on the counter, and drew his pistol.

Chairs and tables creaked on the tavern's wooden ground as people leaped to their feet and rushed out.

A devilish laugh answered the panic, and a shot stopped it.

As the outlaw began to rob the few clients left under the threat of a second pistol, Diego frowned in disbelief. Was this Zorro a common thief? Moved by a determination to give the man a lesson, his hand searched for the pommel of his sword.

"I wouldn't do that, Señor, if I were you," the outlaw told him. "In all Alta California, your reputation of clumsiness at weapon handling precedes you. What would I say to your father if you were to inopportunely hurt yourself?"

"Give me a sword and I'll show you what it costs to laugh at me, Señor!" Diego claimed, outraged by the burning insult.

"Don Diego, please," the sergeant pleaded, "Don't resist, you are no match for him."

Feeling his blood boiling, the young don stepped forward.

"Señor de la Vega? Give me the list, and I will let you go, free," a voice behind him said.

Startled, Diego quickly looked back. Slightly lightheaded, he shook his head to clear his blurry vision.

"In all honesty, do you think I would sacrifice fifty men in the only purpose that I'd live?"

What was the old man, the one who had welcomed him with opened arms, doing here?

Troubled, Diego frowned and blinked several times.

When he raised his eyes again, Zorro had disappeared, and in his place stood a man in his late forties, dressed in a light grey ceremonial uniform. They were in a small reserve, at the bottom of a staircase. The sergeant and the manservant who had come to his rescue after his riding accident stood next to him, scared.

"It's no time to play hero anymore, Señor. The list or your life," the pompous man threatened. But to no avail.

The old hacendado did not move a toe, and stood with the head proudly straight.

Convinced that a murder was about to be committed, the young don suddenly stepped forward.

"Señor Varga?" Diego asked, "I know where the list is. If I give it to you, will you assure me of my freedom?"

"What are you saying, Diego?" the old man said, aghast.

"Don Diego..." the sergeant said, saddened.

"Sorry, Father, but I can't stay here anymore."

"Are you so afraid of death, my son?"

"Don Diego, you can't betray these men..." the sergeant added, desperate.

"I'm sorry," he replied, not believing such words could get out of his own mouth.

"Save your breath, Sergeant," the old man replied, averting his gaze on the ground.

Hurt by the horror followed by the deep disappointment on the old man's kind face, Diego followed Varga up the stairs. Though he knew he had no other choice, his shoulders were low under the weight of his treason, his fists and jaws, clenched by a dark ire against him.

However, when he stepped out of the tavern, his shame vanished, chased away by the cries of terror that reverberated on the plaza.

The young don felt his heart rate spiking at the sight of flames rising high in the night, casting an orange halo that revealed a burning pen. A man - _a soldier_ - was in the middle of the inferno with a wild, black stallion. In prey to panic, the beast sliced the air with his hooves.

Horror and fear seizing his guts, Diego leaped forward to jump into the fire to free the animal when a hand restrained his arm.

Diego turned back quickly, furious to be kept from acting. But when he saw the manservant was shaking his head and waving him something, he frowned, troubled.

"Speak, for God's sake! What do you want?" the young don exclaimed, holding his head when his headache suddenly resurfaced.

The manservant looked at him, dumbfounded. Then, he touched his ear and his mouth, before shaking his head.

"Mute and deaf?" Diego whispered, his breathing becoming erratic.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw the man hitting his forehead with his palm, before waving both arms in a giving up gesture. Then, as the ground waved under his feet, he felt the manservant grabbing his arm, wrapping it around his shoulder, and dragging him away from the fire. Feeling sick, Diego did not protest.

As they reached the corner of a building, the manservant made him crouch in haste behind a cart full of stray just as soldiers appeared on the opposite end of the street, coming fast toward them.

Concealed by the shadows, the young don stared at the sergeant, walking in front of a small troop, loudly ordering his men not to come back to the cuartel until they had caught el Zorro.

Despite his sickness, Diego raised a dumbstruck eyebrow.

They were so noisy that it was dubious they would even catch a hen robber.

A moment later, the grey and blue tunics passed a few feet by them at a jogging pace. The movement increased Diego's dizzy turn. As he collapsed on the ground, he closed his eyes tight, and pressed a hand against his forehead just above his right eye. The pain was so bad he expected to feel his brain leaking in his palm.

Focused on taking deep breaths, Diego barely heard cries reverberating all around him. Bile rose in his throat; something sliced the air near his head. Urged by the sharp awareness of being in mortal danger, the young don forced himself to open his eyes, and gasped in horror.

The sergeant's imposing torso was at his feet, pierced through and through by half a dozen arrows.

As a cry was about to escape his lips, a hand suddenly covered Diego's mouth.

"Shh, it's me," a voice whispered as he struggled to free himself.

"Tokala?" he replied, panting.

In a blurry haze, the street disappeared and in its place appeared a giant arch, crushing the sky with its impressive silhouette.

"The Blood Tribe... We must go away... Now," the young Indian said, sidling between the large rocks.

Still haunted by the soldier's glassy gaze, Diego followed his friend back into the dried river bed.

"Blood tribe?" Diego asked with a wince of disgust as he caught up with Tokala.

"Grandfather talked to me about them, but I thought he only wanted to scare me," the young Indian explained, speeding up the pace.

The two children ran away as fast as possible on the rough terrain. However, as agile and dynamic as only young legs can be, it was not enough to escape the threat upon them. As a bird of prey's high-pitched shriek tore the sky, a bold figure sprung in front of them, snatching them cries of surprise and terror.

Stopping dead in his track, Diego stared at the man. His skin was covered by a red crust, and his eyes were as deadly as the arrow he pointed on them.

With Tokala, Diego moved back slowly when a powerful hand seized him by the collar, and lifted him in the air. He struggled to break free, gasping.

"_Diego!"_

The young don woke up with a start, a hand on his throat.

"Diego? Are you all right?"

Panting heavily, sweat pearling on his forehead and running down his spine, he stared eyes wide opened at the darkness. Shaken, he raised his head and saw the stars spreading in the nightly sky like wildfire. But no explosion suddenly lighted the sky like in broad daylight; the only firework that went off the chart was his headache. In pain, he curled himself, and buried his head between his arms.

After a certain time, his breathing eased, and he noticed the hand stroking his back. He straightened slightly.

"Pardon me, Diego, for waking you up in the middle of such a dreadful dream. But you were very agitated, and I was afraid you would hurt yourself. Are you all right?"

"I'm... fine. I did not mean to disturb you. Just... just go back to sleep, Anna-Maria," he said, forcing his voice to sound calm and reassuring. Like the rest of his dream, the pressure on his throat was still vivid.

"We have known each other for too long, Diego, you don't need to hide yourself," she said, taking his hand between hers. "What is it you fear in this valley?"

Diego slightly shook his head. "Nothing," he whispered, not wishing to scare the señorita for if he would not be able to sleep now, it would be cruel to forbid her to rest.

"Diego?"

The young don chuckled slightly upon hearing her tone. There was the reproach of a mother catching her child red-handed in the kitchen. It seemed no amount of persuasion would make her change her mind, and he needed to talk to avoid plunging back into his nightmare, so he said, "I... I saw the man you were talking about. This Zorro."

The señorita chuckled.

"What is so funny?" he asked, perplexed.

"Pardon me again, Diego, but your tone... You might not remember who you are, but you still have this deep irritation tainted with a peak of jealousy in your voice when you speak of him."

"Hmm, what annoys me more is to know how a common thief could have stolen a pure and sweet heart like yours."

"But Zorro is all but a thief," she replied vividly, sounding so insulted that Diego feared for a moment he would receive a gantlet to the face. But he did not have to ponder long about a duel with the outlaw as the señorita added with a soft tone, "You wished me all the best with him. Would you do that if you had the slightest doubt that the man was less than a caballero?"

"Hmm... I did?"

"Yes, you did. And you were sincere."

"No, I was a coward."

Diego sighed as he remembered the beginning of his dream. The shame.

"How can you say that, after all you went through to take me out of the _bandidos_' hands?"

"I don't know, Anna-Maria. I don't know who I am anymore and maybe it's for the best."

"How come, Diego?"

"I... I saw a man in my dream. White hair, mustache and goatee. A fine figure of caballero. He called me _my son_..." he whispered.

"Don Alejandro, your father! It's wonderful, Diego, your memory is coming back!"

Diego winced. Though he was relieved to at last have a memory that proved he was alive before his accident, a memory that denied his present loneliness, he was unable to share the señorita's thrill.

Even his own father did not seem to hold him in great esteem. As had stated Blue-eyes when he had first caught him, and again, when he had faked hurting his ankle, he was worthless, a weak nature.

"I hear disappointment in the people I meet. I read pity in their eyes," Diego said, feeling his throat tightening. "I wished a single blow on the head could transform a coward into a man..."

The young don looked away. Maybe remembering of himself would be more of a curse than a deliverance. At least, while his past self stayed in the darkness, he could try to live the rest of his life like a man.

The señorita seized his hand between hers.

"Exhaustion causes you to be too hard on yourself, Diego. Despite your injuries, you came to my rescue. And it means a lot for me. When we'll be out of danger, and you'll have gotten the needed rest and care, your mind will be clearer, and you'll see that you are no coward. Trust me."

The señorita's words soothed the young don's heart.

"I only ask to believe you, Anna-Maria," he said, smiling faintly as he considered for a moment to kiss her hand again, for he deeply wanted to feel the softness of her skin on his lips.

A thought stopped him to allow him such pleasure, and even to retract his own hand from hers.

"Let's stop mulling over my little miseries, would you. You said I wished you all the best with this Zorro. As hurtful it might be for me to hear it, are you happy with him?"

It was the señorita's turn to straighten and to shift uneasy.

"Unfortunately, it did not go as my heart had foolishly hoped for he did not accept the offered amnesty, and we parted ways a year and a half ago. Getting no news from him, I thought that he had all but forgotten about me, and tried to move on myself with my life. But when my stagecoach was attacked a couple of days ago, and I saw him coming to our rescue... I... I felt a mix of pure joy, tainted by relief and dark rage."

Diego chuckled out of delight. Despite the darkness, he could swear he had seen a sparkle of ire in her black eyes and, by the tone of her voice, he would rather avoid rescuing the señorita right now if he were Zorro.

"Please, promise me you will wait for him to get us out of here before killing him," he said, aware that, despite her words, she was still waiting for his intervention. And she was not alone. He too, hoped that the outlaw would show up sooner rather than later. If the Blood Tribe was still haunting the valley – and it had to be the case, for who would have put the _bandidos_' chief into his hole to rot? – he would needed all possible help to get the señorita out of danger.

As his thoughts brought him back to the end of his nightmare, Diego felt a cold stone falling in the pit of his stomach.

"Do not joke, Diego..." she replied, "For I'm worried. Deeply worried. I saw him disappearing in the shadows the night of the attack, chasing the thieves_._ I fear something bad happened to him. He should have already come."

The young don suddenly straightened, troubled, as he remembered that the señorita was not the only one who was expecting el Zorro to appear. The _bandidos_ were surprised to discover him in place of the outlaw.

Suddenly, the reason of their mocking laughs fell on him like a bludgeon.

"A trap..." he whispered, appalled. "Your kidnapping was a trap set to catch Zorro."

"What?"

The young don sighed, and shook his head.

Of course the trail of red mud had been so easy to follow. The _bandidos_ wanted to be followed. And how they had taken him backward... They expected Zorro to attract them out of their camp. They were prepared.

"Then, I was bait?" the señorita whispered, "Oh! Diego, this is all my fault, I'm so sorry..."

"Don't worry, Anna-Maria, for it does not have any importance now. We escaped these men and their sordid plan," he said, attracting her back against his side. "We should sleep now. We have a tough journey ahead of us. Tomorrow, I'll be the one to have the privilege to bring you back to your home safely, and maybe, I hope, my poor name will rise higher in your esteem."

"It already has, Diego," she whispered, leaning her head against his shoulder.

The young don raised his eyes toward the heavens, and wished his mind could be as clear, and his hope as shining as the stars. But when his eyelids closed, it was still the darkness that constrained him.


	13. Chapter 13

_An apple for Tornado_

_Chapter 13_

* * *

Sitting wedged in a rocky recess with the señorita sound asleep in his lap, Diego was watching an uncertain dawn chasing with difficulty the shadows surrounding them, restrained on the rocks by a silence as worrying as the most impenetrable fog.

Sometime in the middle of the night, a high-pitched, half-whistle, half-hooting shriek had yanked him from a much troubled sleep. All his hair standing on end, he had longly stared in vain at the darkness. And when sleep had eventually caught up with him again, it had been a long suite of jerky dreams where he felt one after the other, prey and hunter. The frontier between memories and simple nightmares fading, he now felt exhausted and in an inexpressible turmoil.

The señorita shifted on his knees.

Grateful to be jerked back to his sweetest concern, Diego lowered his gaze. As he stared at her delicate face, he wished the whiteness of her skin could chase his demons away as easily as it dispelled the obscurity.

_Anna-Maria, _he whispered as the tip of his fingers brushed her soft cheek.

Closing his eyes, the young don saw her appearing on a balcony, waving a lace fan. A smile of relief appeared on his face as the memory lingered, bringing him peace. Without noticing it, he then briefly fell asleep.

When he opened his eyes again, pasty sun rays colored in dark brown the heights of the facing side of the valley. A wind carrying the smell of the ocean blew, dragging low, ominous clouds in its wake.

The young don shuddered.

A part of him wished for rain to fall at once to quench his burning thirst; the other, aware of the dangers of being at the bottom of a deep and narrow valley during a storm, prayed the skies to spare them.

_Better not to linger here any longer, _he told himself.

As he straightened to cast a glance above the rock just in front of him, a searing pain shot through his lower back.

"Señorita?" he whispered, unable to stay sitting any longer when his bruised limbs joined the complaint, "Anna-Maria? Wake up."

The young woman stirred slightly. After a few more attempts, she opened sleepy eyes, and straightened slightly.

"Diego?" she asked, looking all around her, confused.

Sympathizing, he helped her to sit up.

"The _bandidos_?" she suddenly said, clinging on his arm in alarm.

"I don't think they followed us," he whispered, as he kneeled with a wince of pain.

Though anxious to stand up to get blood flowing in his numb legs again, caution forced him to stay as crouched as possible behind the large rock in front of them in order to check the bottom of the valley.

A few seconds later, Diego released a sigh of relief, one of his nightmares fortunately not finding any echo in reality. As far as he could see, they were alone.

_Where should we go now?_ he wondered, brow furrowed as he embraced the rough landscape once more.

They could not walk back to _el_ _Serpiente_, for the _bandidos_ blocked the path; if they moved deeper into the valley, they risked encountering the Blood Tribe.

_Up_? he wondered, craning his neck to look overhead. _No.._.

Past the platform where he had stopped yesterday evening, the two-hundred-foot high cliff was too steep to climb. Alone, maybe he would manage to take this route of escape, but the danger was too great for Anna-Maria. Even if she had shown the previous day that she was not scared of heights, her nerves had limits, and the slightest mistake would be lethal.

The young don shook his head, muttering a curse as he was forced to choose between several evils. Which one would offer them the best chances of survival? The Blood Tribe or the _bandidos_?

Though dreadful, the first were so far only living in his visions, like an imaginary murdering horde. The others were only three, two if one counted that the _bandidos_' chief was in a sorry state, but carried all too real pistols and rifles...

However, they would not expect them to move back. This was an element of surprise he could capitalize on.

The air grave, Diego nodded to himself, his decision taken.

"Come, Anna-Maria," he said, unable to keep himself from cursing that once more, he was letting his guts take the lead.

Angry against himself, the young don then made two mistakes: he pushed too hard on his injured arm and stood up too fast.

As a moan of pain escaped his lips, he felt Anna-Maria grasping his elbow to help him stay on his feet.

"Easy, Diego," she said as he leaned against the rock he was about to jump over, and took a few deep breaths.

"We have to change the dressing on your wound or it will infect," she added, taking out a white lace handkerchief from her vest.

As she carefully removed the bloodied piece of fabric that he had quickly torn from his sleeve to cover the graze caused by the bullet, he saw Anna-Maria's gaze freezing, and her face turning pale. Thinking that the sight of the swollen and angry red flesh of his biceps was troubling her, he took her hand in his and smiled faintly.

"Don't worry, Anna-Maria, it looks worse than it is."

The señorita slightly jumped, startled, and raised her hand toward his forehead, "Are you still suffering from headaches?"

As her fingers brushed his unshaven cheek, Diego bent his head toward her palm.

"I'm getting used to it," he whispered, briefly closing his eyes as he kissed the inner of her wrist. When he opened them again, his breath was stolen away upon seeing Anna-Maria's shaking eyes staring at him with deep apprehension. And envy.

"Diego..." she whispered, as he bent forward to kiss her lips.

Though crackled by thirst, dust, and salted by sweat and tears, the elusive smell of jasmine rising from her warm flesh stopped time from flooding, bewitching all his senses.

At least, until his stomach gurgled too loudly, causing Anna-Maria to utter a nervous laugh.

Embarrassed, the young don lowered his gaze and met her smile and gleaming eyes. Under her charm, he took her hands, and joined them under his chin to kiss them.

"I'm going to get you out of here, Anna-Maria, I promise," he said, kissing her forehead before hugging her a last time.

"I know, Diego," she replied, nodding sharply, her face radiant. "Let's move out of here. Together."

Refreshed by her spirit, he turned away to climb down with an energy that the valley, and the ominous clouds could not snatch away.

However, as he led the way back to the narrow gorge marking the beginning of el _Serpiente_, his mind darkened and his brow furrowed. At several places, the dried river bed was too exposed to his liking, and he made them move higher on the sides, where the rocks were larger and bushes grew.

Having the strange feeling of being followed, he stopped regularly to scan their front and their rear. But as he did not see any sign of another presence, he wondered if his frayed nerves were not playing him tricks.

"I needed no doctor!" a voice suddenly barked in front of them.

Diego stopped dead in his track, and enjoined the señorita to seek cover behind a large rock a few feet on their left. Careful, he moved further up the side, toward the crest of an imposing and inclined rock.

"Madre de Dios, you were gravely ill, Enrique!"

Blue-eyes' voice, Diego recognized, now realizing that behind the curve was the place where they had found the _bandido_ buried in the ground.

Careful not to cause any rock slide, he flattened on his stomach, and crawled on the narrow crest to get a visual.

The _bandidos_' chief was now conscious, and was sitting twenty feet away near the remains of a camp fire that his brother snuffed with his boot, while the last _bandido_... _Where is he?_

"I already told you this fever comes and goes by itself. There's nothing a doctor can do. You panicked like a wench!"

Diego shuddered, alarmed to hear the valley's sides echoing the loud voices as he continued to scan the area for the last man.

Footsteps behind him startled him. Nervous, he craned his neck to cast a look above his shoulder and saw Anna-Maria flattening next to him.

Slightly annoyed but understanding that she did not wish to be left behind alone, he resumed his search for the last _bandido_.

"Even if you're my only family left, mi hermano, next time I will let you rot in whatever unhealthy island the army can conjure up!"

_Ah! There, _Diego sighed, satisfied to find him.

Though his relief was short lived.

The man was standing watch with his rifle near the beginning of the gorge, ruining all their chances to escape without being noticed.

Annoyed, Diego slid down the rock, and moved back thirty feet toward a bush. He had to makeshift a weapon of some sort, a sling or a catapult, anything that could help him to knock out at least one _bandido_ and allow him to take care of the others without exposing his back.

Still listening at the brothers, he searched for a solid but still flexible stick.

"Ah! Forgive me my words, mi hermano, for I did not intend them. You are the only one I can count on in this earthly world. But I can't seem to be able to remove the stench of that purulent presidio I was condemned to take command from my skin. This blow to my promising career is eating me alive."

"No offense taken. I understand all too well the ire burning in your veins after the grave injustice you suffered."

"You said you brought Zorro's wench with you, and that she escaped with a man you thought good to bring down here, though he was not that pesky outlaw. Now I wonder, Manuel, who was this man?"

"That pale figure of a caballero, Diego de la Vega."

"And you let him escape!" Enrique barked so loudly that Diego turned his head at the same moment as he grasped a thorny branch, and pricked himself.

With an irritated groan, the young don bit his finger to ease the pain when his glance fell on pebbles.

"A pox on the man! Under his popinjay appearance, he is cunning and as strong as a young stallion. Pretended a sprained ankle and knocked me out as soon as I had my back turned. Jose saw him dragging the señorita down the river bed. He thinks he shot him, but we did not find his body."

_Bolas... _Diego thought as he picked a large pebble and appreciated its weight.

A smirk on his lips, the young don gave up his previous idea. He let go of the stone in his hand, too heavy, and searched for three smaller ones. Lighter, they would fly further and hit their targets with more strength. All he needed now was to tear apart his waist scarf, and he would have a weapon to rely on.

Neighs suddenly sounded.

"Oh! Oh! Easy!" he heard one of the _bandidos_ crying.

Diego's eyes widened in alarm, as he wondered what was causing the horse to panic. Though it could be a simple snake, the beasts had a kind of sixth sense when it came to sensing a coming danger.

As his own feeling of being observed resurfaced, more acute, Diego froze, ignoring Anna-Maria's wave of arm. Jaw clenched, the hair on his neck standing on end, he scanned the rocky sides of the narrow valley. But like earlier, he did not detect any movement between the bushes or behind the rocks.

Diego was moving back to join Anna-Maria to see what was happening to the horse when a piercing shriek tore the silence.

Everything then happened so fast that it gave him vertigo.

As the young don raised his eyes in alarm toward the sky, shouts and shots reverberated. From the corner of the eyes, he saw an Indian springing from behind a rock twenty feet on his left, bending a bow toward the señorita, while his instinct urged him to check his right side.

From behind the inclined rock, cries of pain echoed, followed by the dull sounds of bodies falling to the ground.

Expecting to feel an arrow piercing his back, Diego leaped to shield Anna-Maria. Turning on his heels, he raised his hands above his head.

"Shíká anilyeedÁ!" he cried, the Navajo words calling for help springing out of his mouth.

Heart beating wildly in his chest, he repeated them, hopping his pronunciation was right. And it seemed to be, for no arrow flooded their position. Obviously troubled, the three Indians circling them exchanged a glance. A few tense seconds later, the one threatening their left side slowly moved toward them, bow still lethally bent.

"Eii Diné haash wolyé?" the Indian asked, stopping at a safe distance.

A cold shudder ran down Diego's spine as his mind rushed.

_Wolyé... wolyé..._ _I know this word... _

"Diego de la Vega wolyé," he replied suddenly, swallowing a lump in his throat as it felt very disturbing to be able to communicate in a language he did not even know a second before he was able to understand.

_Am I_? he wondered, uncertain as the Indian moved a bit closer.

Though the red crust of mud covering his face concealed his facial expressions, Diego read hesitation in his dark eyes.

"Shíká anilyeedÁ" he repeated, feeling Anna-Maria's jerky breath on his neck.

The Indian suddenly emitted a high-pitched, half-whistle, half-hooting shriek. The same one that had woken up in the middle of the night.

Diego felt his heart pace spiking at once. Beads of sweat pearled on his forehead, and his sight blurred, his breath shortened.

_Not now_... he pleaded, shaking his head and blinking several times to fight the coming vision away. He could not let himself be incapacitated by his unconscious. Not right now! But it was like trying to keep a wild river from flooding.

As reality faded, the young don fell to the ground. Unaware of Anna-Maria taking him into her arms and desperately calling him, he saw once more the soldiers' pierced bodies collapsing. But this time, a deafening roar reverberated to the point he felt the ground vibrating beneath him, as if a hundred horses at a full gallop were heading his way.

Suddenly, foaming, raging waters appeared. Foaming waters that swirled with a frightening, nauseating speed.

Revulsion seized Diego when he saw a body falling into the wild river, and disappearing straight away, swallowed into earth's entrails, sucked up into the devil's den.

"The... sink...hole..." he whispered just as sheer exhaustion put an end to his ordeal, and blessedly deprived him of all his senses.


	14. Chapter 14

_AN: Muchas gracias for your reviews :-) Just know that I greatly appreciate them. They encourage me to write faster ;-) I hope you'll like this new chapter.  
_

* * *

_An apple for Tornado_

_Chapter 14_

* * *

Anna-Maria's eyes widened as a deep black horse suddenly sprung out of the darkness of the gorge at a small trot. Coming to a halt, it nervously kicked the ground, lips curled as it smelled the air.

The _bandido_ who was standing watch slowly approached. Startled, the horse rose on its rear legs and neighed.

"Whoa! Whoa! Easy!" he cried, trying to ease the Black when its hooves sliced the air dangerously close to his head.

As the man moved back, thrill seized Anna-Maria.

While he was stationed in Monterey, Sergeant Garcia had told her that Zorro's stallion in Los Angeles was darker than the night and faster than the wind, explaining why they were never able to see him coming, let alone catch him.

_Could this magnificent steed be Zorro's mount?_ she wondered, noticing that he was unsaddled, and that there was a large bag hung around his neck. What would Zorro's horse bring to his master in trouble?

Guessing the contents, Anna-Maria bit her lips, and turned her head to warn Diego. As she waved her arm to attract his attention, a tearing shriek sounded. Startled, she quickly raised her head toward the sky when a movement in the opposite side of the valley caught her eyes. With dread, she then saw two Indians springing out of the rocks, and pointing arrows in their direction. Shots echoed in the _bandidos_' camp, followed by cries of pain.

Heart beating wildly in her chest, Anna-Maria slid down the inclined rock fast to seek better cover. Her feet hit the ground just as Diego reached her position. Legs shaking, she clung on his arms when he suddenly shouted something in the natives' language.

The three Indians surrounding them froze on the spot.

After a few tense seconds during which her eyes nervously moved from one deadly arrow to another, Anna-Maria jumped when the native on their left stepped forward, his bow still deadly aimed at Diego's chest.

She cringed, but in front of her, the young don stayed straight, as solid as the rocks surrounding them.

The native stopped a dozen feet from them, and said something that she did not hear completely, nor did she hear Diego's answer for her mind was paralyzed by the man's devilish appearance. Covered from head to toe by a red mud that made his black eyes gleam like a dark, metallic liquid in the middle of an intense fire that made her fingers clenching tighter on Diego's arm.

A sudden blood-chilling cry made her jump of terror, a cry that was quickly followed by Diego's moan of pain.

As she felt his body tensing and suddenly swaying, tears burnt in her eyes for she was certain that he had just been hit in the chest by an arrow.

_No..._ she pleaded as he collapsed.

Her breath stolen away by the shock, Anna-Maria tried to keep him from hitting the ground too hard. Troubled not to see any arrow, she stared at him, wondering what could have caused such a fainting fit, and met only glassy eyes. Terrified, she kneeled at his side, took his head on her lap, grasped his hand, and called him several times, hoping her voice would anchor him in reality. To no avail. His eyes rolled, his eyelids fluttered briefly, and closed.

The sob she was trying to keep from rising for a moment flooded out of her eyes. Nerves frayed, she grabbed a stone and, in a desperate move, threw it to the Indian when a loud neigh suddenly sounded. Through a veil of tears, Anna-Maria then saw a black shadow charging the native, forcing him to retreat.

A movement in the middle of the dried river bed attracted her attention. Casting a quick glance, she saw the _bandidos_' chief being thrown on the ground with his hands tied on his back, by another Indian who pointed an arrow on the base of his skull.

The Black nervously pivoted, and angrily kicking the ground, moved toward the new threat.

Anna-Maria's fingers clung on Diego's shirt as she observed the stallion trotting back and forth, blowing air from his nostrils. The natives exchanged a silent glance, and after a few long and tense seconds, the one who had first spoken to Diego turned back his gaze on them.

"Dooládó' dooda da shitsilí," he said, before moving back slowly.

Upon a small wave of the hand, all of his other fellows lowered their bows, and soon the valley was quiet, as if nothing happened.

Aghast, Anna-Maria looked all around her, not yet daring to move.

_Why did they leave?_ she wondered as the Black headed toward them.

Heart still beating fast in her chest, she stared at the steed smelling Diego's face, and giving him gentle pushes on the shoulder in an attempt to stir him up. Reassured to feel the young don's breathing steady and strong, she slowly stretched a hand to stroke his nose. The horse raised his head and smelled her palm.

"I am sorry, mi amigo, I have no food for you," she said, frowning as she noticed that a sword was also hanging around his neck. A sword chased in gold and silver that she had seen two mornings ago at Don Alejandro de la Vega's side.

"Will you let me see what is in this bag hung around your neck?" she asked, slipping a hand beneath Diego's neck and delicately lying him down so she could stand up.

The horse neighed.

Nervous, Anna-Maria slightly cringed, and raised a hand to her mouth to cover a chuckle. She took a deep breath to ease her nerves, and moved forward to undo the two buckles. As she lifted the flap, her breath stuck in her throat, and tears invaded her eyes again, for if she had suspicions since yesterday evening that Diego and Zorro were one and the same, the contents of the bag did not leave any doubt.

The time seemed to stop flooding as her fingers hesitantly brushed the black silk of the outlaw's cape, and felt the coldness of the pistol's barrel. When her hand closed around the grip, she saw herself pointing Romero Serrano's weapon to Diego's chest, in his room at the inn. Anna-Maria closed her eyes, and let herself be swallowed in the memory.

Persuaded that she would find the seventeen thousand pesos he should have given to her father earlier that day, she had ordered him to let her see what was in his saddle bag.

A smile rose when she remembered how Bernardo had hastily taken the bag before falling on the ground, dragging the curtains on him. Was it possible that Diego's loyal servant had managed to remove Zorro's clothes in this caper?

_Maybe I should explain the mystery of this bag..._ Diego had said, pale and tense.

Of course Bernardo had held the bag as if his life depended on it. The fox's clothes were in it.

_There is justice in this affair for our dear Ricardo! He sets a trap, and instead of catching a fox, he catches a tiger! _Diego said with an amused voice as he gently made fun of Don Ricardo after the straw dummy's affair.

Smiling, Anna-Maria shook her head as this other, more joyful memory, swept the precedent. She could not believe that he had dared to give his identity in the middle of their discussion! Neither she nor Ricardo had noticed anyway. How could have they? All the attention was on Ricardo's last _exploit_!

As always, his prank had backfired, and as always, the commandante of the garrison in Monterey had born the brunt of the joke. Again, she saw the proud officer being violently jerked from his saddle as he put the spear bearing her light blue scarf right into the dummy's chest. His humiliated face upon discovering a few seconds later that there was a wooden post hidden below the straw had caused a general laugh on the plaza.

She missed those times so much!

Ricardo setting traps to ridicule Diego in front of her, while Diego... Well, Diego.

Anna-Maria sighed, and turned back her gaze on the unconscious outlaw.

He had been so determinate to avoid any direct confrontation with his friend. Now she understood why. It was easier for him to fight as Zorro.

A shadow darkened her eyes.

Their childish play for her love had almost cost Ricardo his life when Diego had finally decided to teach him a lesson, and let him be captured by the soldiers while he was giving the serenade to Milana, masqueraded as Zorro. Feeling disgraced too many times, the commandante had taken the occasion to get his revenge on the troublemaker for all his bad tricks, and planned to hang him high the next day, without trial. Warned by Bernardo, Diego and she had intervened to explain that it was merely a joke, but the enraged officer had thrown them out of the presidio under escort.

What had ensued was still vivid in her mind for she had been so furious with Diego that day that she would have wished to slap some bravery into him.

As they stepped into the tavern, he had said he was suddenly feeling sick and in need of rest. After giving the soldiers a few pesos to buy a drink, he had climbed the stairs at a weary pace to hide in his room like a child, leaving her alone in the middle of the turmoil while their friend was facing the gallows!

Since that day, she had seen him as a man too sensitive to bear life's hardships.

_A coward? _

Anna-Maria closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the Black's shoulder, feeling her heart constraining as she heard again the distress in Diego's voice; saw it on his face as he confided his sorrow this morning. Now she realized it was only a cover, for who would link the listless caballero to the fierce outlaw?

A groan sounded.

Startled, Anna-Maria raised her head and glanced at her left. A cold shudder ran down her spine. Submerged by too many memories and emotions, she had all but forgotten about the _bandido_.

One knee on the ground, the man was struggling to free his hands by scraping his bonds on a rock.

Jaw clenched, Anna-Maria stared at him, troubled. Despite his sorry state, she mistrusted the man. The _bandido_ had ordered her capture only to lead Zorro into a trap. He was no more a friend to them than the Indians. The question was, did he know that Diego and the famous outlaw were one and the same?

They had to leave now, she thought as the Black suddenly kneeled on his fore legs and stretched his neck on the ground next to Diego's arm.

The young don's eyelids fluttered. His fingers moved, and closed on the mane.

Relieved, Anna-Maria moved to his side, and called his name, hoping that her voice, added to the beast's presence, would stir him back to consciousness. But when the horse raised his head, he let go of his grasp, and his arm fell on his side like a dead weight.

Distressed, Anna-Maria shook his shoulder harder, feeling panic rising. How was she supposed to get him on the back of his horse?

_Think, my girl!_ She berated herself, taking a deep breath to ease the shaking of her limbs. _The bandidos' horses! You need to take a saddle from one and put it on the steed's back. And you'd better do it before the bandido manages to free himself!_

_Too late!_

Scared, Anna-Maria immediately took the pistol out of the bag.

"Don't move, Señor!" she warned, as the _bandido_ rose on his two feet.

As the man raised his head, Anna-Maria cringed upon seeing his icy blue eyes shooting daggers at her.

"Ah... as spirited as the scum you love, I see," he snarled, massaging his wrists.

"If he were here, he would make you swallow your filthy tongue," she replied through clenched teeth, trying not to let her fear filter in her voice.

A laugh answered her.

"I said don't move, Señor!" she warned again as the man stepped forward.

"Are you sure this pistol is loaded?" he asked, smiling as if he were not impressed at having a weapon aimed on him..

Breathing fast, she stared at him. A part of her yelled that she should kill him straight away, but she did not think she would be able to pull the trigger. And even if she did, what would happen if she missed or only wounded him? She would have no way to defend herself and Diego anymore. She had to make him yield.

"One more step and you'll know it!" she snarled, forcing her legs to move one step forward.

Her threat seemed to work, for the man suddenly raised his arms.

"Fine. I surrender. For now," he said with a tone and a smirk that made him look like a feline retreating in front of a mouse only to better jump on it. "But I must stress that we must leave this place without delay, Señorita. When I established our camp down here two weeks ago, a river was flooding at the very same place where you stand now. One morning it disappeared as if by magic. Dark magic, as soon after I fell ill. I don't recall what happened until my brother and you found me buried in that hole, but three loyal compañeros are missing. I presume the Indians we just saw killed them, like they killed..." the man paused, his voice grave, strangling in his throat while he turned a distant gaze toward their camp. "I don't understand why they left the three of us alive and my sharp instinct thinks no good of such miracle. We must leave now. Trust me."

"Trust you?" Anna-Maria whispered. Though she felt deep in her guts that the man was right, that the Indians should have killed them, she knew better than to put her life between a _bandido_'s hands.

"How can I convince you? I lost everything down here, Señorita," he said, opening his arm and showing his empty palms.

The black stallion suddenly neighed and became agitated.

"That makes you even more difficult to trust, Señor, for you have nothing left to lose in a desperate action," Anna-Maria said, grasping the steed's mane and stroking his nose to ease him. He too did not trust the _bandido_ obviously.

"I disagree, for I still have my honor, and as miserable as my life is, I value it," the man replied, frowning as a light roar sounded.

The _bandido_ paused, and stared anxiously at the valley for a few seconds before focusing back on her.

"I heard the Indian saying something to you just before they left, though I was too far away to understand. Do you remember what it was?" he asked, worried.

Startled by the change of tone, Anna-Maria stammered.

"It was... shooda something I think, no... Doolado... dooda da it..." she replied, "Do you know what it means?"

"I heard those words too many times in these savages' filthy mouths. It means sorry," he said as the Black rose on his rear legs, before moving closer to Diego, giving him sharp blows on the side.

"Sorry?" Anna-Maria repeated, perplexed by the horse's behavior. "Sorry for what?" she asked as she suddenly felt the ground starting to shake while the roar became louder and louder. Her brow furrowed, she glanced at the sky.

_No lightning?_ _Could it be an earthquake then?_ she wondered, fearing that the horse's obvious nervousness was caused by a coming disaster.

"Climb!" the man suddenly cried, "As high as you can!"

"What?"

"Do as I say if you wish to live!" he growled, pointing to the dried river bed with a finger.

Anna-Maria turned her gaze and gasped. In the distance, a white foam rushed toward them.


	15. Chapter 15

_An apple for Tornado_

_Chapter 15_

* * *

Eyes wide with fear, Anna-Maria cast a look above her shoulder and saw a foaming torrent of red mud and stones rushing toward them.

Tightening her grasp on the Black's mane, she resumed her way, watching with relief the _bandido_ hauling an unconscious Diego on the crest of the inclined rock, the highest point they could climb on.

A second later, the waters splashed against the bottom of the rock, and bounced back into the river bed, creating a swirl that finally found a way around the obstacle and toward the narrow cirque concealing the gorge.

As soon as the waters appeared at the bottom of the three-hundred-foot high cliffs, the two _bandidos_' horses panicked and rushed into different directions. One galloped toward them, and swiftly climbed the other side of the inclined rock. The _bandido_ rushed toward it, and, catching him by the bit, he dragged him to the safety of the crest.

Below, the waters hit the walls where the gorge was with force. Some managed to leak in the ten-foot-wide opening, but most of the flow bounced back, creating a pond that swirled and swelled at an alarmingly fast rate.

With dread, Anna-Maria stared at the foaming waters swallowing the narrow band of pebbles where the other horse had sought refuge. The beast neighed and kicked the ground, aware that it was trapped. Closing her eyes, she buried her head in the Black's mane not to see it being dragged away by the current. Its neighs of terror would haunt her for the rest of her life. A very short life if they stayed here. Though overhanging twenty-feet in height, she had little hope that the inclined rock would escape the drowning of the valley. Would have the Indians left them alive otherwise?

"No..." she whispered, turning her eyes on the young don. He was still out of it, lying on the ground, completely unaware of the fate hanging above their head.

_This is too unfair_... she thought as she let go of her grasp on the Black to go and kneel next to Diego's side.

Realizing that she was still holding the pistol, Anna-Maria froze, and searched for the _bandido_. Troubled not to see him, she moved around. Finally, she found him sitting behind a rock, his back turned away from the drowned cirque that had sheltered their camp, and his head between his knees. The man seemed lost.

"I am sorry," she whispered, remembering that he had just lost his brother.

"Keep your pity to yourself. I have no need for it," he shot back angrily, standing up.

His lower face was distorted by ire, and the coldness in his eyes as he stared at her made Anna-Maria step back.

Leaving him pacing back and forth like a lion in a cage, she returned to Diego's side without a word. A sad smile appeared on her lips upon seeing the Black attempting again to stir his master back to consciousness.

Anna-Maria raised her eyes toward the cliff at the end of the crest. It was steep, but maybe they would not need to climb much higher to save their lives? If only Diego was conscious...

As she took a deep breath to ease her heart and clear her mind, her eyes fell on the pond.

Though it was still foaming near the gorge, the waters were not as raging on their side. Careful not to trip over, she slid down the inclined rock. Staying crouched, she tore the bottom of her long skirt to make a rag, and soaked it several times. Once she judged it clean enough, she plunged it a last time, and climbed fast back toward Diego to twist it above his face. The water ran on the dried skin of his cheeks down his neck. Worried, she pressed the rag on his mouth to rehydrate him. When his lips slightly opened, she let out a sigh of hope, and, despite the tiredness weighing her legs, she moved back down to the lake to get him more water.

As she climbed back toward Diego for the third time, she saw the _bandido_ standing up and moving down to refresh himself. Realizing her own thirst, she then allowed herself to splash her face on her next back-and-forth.

She was drinking on her knees when a slap in the face echoed, quickly followed by a neigh.

Alarmed, she turned her head, and gasped.

The _bandido_ was kneeling next to Diego. Her pistol in his hand.

Anna-Maria closed her eyes, and muttered a curse.

How could have she forgotten her only way to defend themselves up there? This was an unforgivable mistake!

Swallowing a lump, she stared at the Black who was standing near the wall with the other horse. From a sharp move of her arm, she tried to order him to attack the _bandido_.

"Calm down, Señorita," the man suddenly said, standing up while sliding the pistol in his pants. "If I intended to murder Señor de la Vega, it would have been easier for me to let him drown."

Far from being reassured, Anna-Maria hastily climbed back the slope.

"However," the man said, stopping her in mid-height, tense, "Before coming back to take care of our lazy friend, remove the bag and the sword from the black stallion and put them around mine."

Swallowing a lump in her throat, Anna-Maria reluctantly obliged.

"Quite a bruise on his head. What happened to him?" the _bandido_ asked, as she kneeled back at Diego's side.

Irritated, she thought about spitting a sarcastic comment but caught herself at the last moment, preferring not to provoke the man's bad temper while he had the upper hand.

"He... he was reading on his horse and fell. He's not himself since then. His... memory suffered greatly from the blow, Señor," she said, hoping that the _bandido's_ honor would forbid him to seek vengeance on a wounded adversary.

"Reading on a horse, huh?! Never heard of a more stupid thing! Did you witness this so-called fall, Señorita?"

Anna-Maria shifted, uneasy.

"I did not, but Sergeant Garcia from the pueblo of Los Angeles' garrison did."

"Garcia? This coarse and incompetent baboso is still in service?"

Anna-Maria straightened, taking the insult personally for she felt a deep sympathy for the soldier who had saved her life years ago.

"You-"

"Save your breath, Señorita, it is useless to declare another duel, especially one in Garcia's name for I certainly won't soil my blade with his fat. One day the paunch he calls a stomach will kill him anyway!" the _bandido_ laughed.

Anna-Maria felt her blood rushing to her face at this second insult.

"Oh, you! If Zorro were there he-"

"I know, Señorita, he would make me swallow my putrid tongue. You said it already. Would you allow me to make a miracle for you then?" the _bandido_ cut, the voice fawning, announcing some dangerous guile.

With a swift movement, he took the wet rag from her hands, folded it lengthwise, and put it over Diego's closed eyes.

Anna-Maria's breath shortened as all blood instantly left her face.

"No need to shake, Señorita. As much as I crave for seeing the color of his blood, I will at least wait for him to regain his senses," he said, heading toward his brother's horse.

As she stared at him drawing the sword hung at the saddle's pommel and raising it in front of him, she picked up the largest rock her hand could hold.

"Do not let fear push you to commit an ill-considered move, Señorita. You need me to take your hero out of here. Alone, you do not have enough strength to hold him on the back of his horse while it swims," the _bandido_ said, not even deigning to face her as he put back the blade in its case and undid the belt to buckle it around his waist.

Anna-Maria shuddered.

"Swim?" she whispered, casting a nervous glance at the agitated lake. It was less than four feet beneath them now. The whole valley was slowly but inexorably flooded.

"Sí, Señorita. I have no way to know where the river will stop its swelling, but I am convinced that the Indians will come back sooner rather than later to ensure that we've drowned. As the cliff above us is too high and unstable to climb, it leaves us only one way out. The gorge. We will cling on the horses and let us being dragged along."

While the _bandido_ freed his horse from the saddle, Anna-Maria lowered a scared gaze on Diego. Though he was still unconscious, his eyelids fluttered, and weak moans escaped his lips, as if he were dreaming.

* * *

A few white, stingy clouds ran into the sky as Diego stared at a quiet moon casting a silver gleam on arid hills. What was he doing here, alone by nightfall on a deserted, dusty road?

Feeling his nervousness, his mount neighed and moved around. Taking the bridles in one hand, Diego stroked the palomino's neck to reassure it.

He was deciding himself to ride away when the sound of hooves echoed. As he glanced above his shoulder, he saw a horse standing a dozen yards away, as white as a ghost.

Breath held, the young don stared at it, fascinated by the apparition.

Pushed by a sudden urge, he dismounted, and slowly headed toward the unexpected visitor. The beast neighed softly, and moved toward him, stretching his long neck to smell his hand.

Feeling the joy one feels upon seeing again a lost friend, the young don patted the horse's shoulder.

"Hola, mi amigo," he said, smiling.

Before he realized it, Diego was on his back, riding fast in the hills. Thrilled by the beast's stunning stamina as it jumped over obstacles without hesitation, he made him climb a steep slope without reducing a cadence that, well on the contrary, increased.

When they reached the top, the young don pulled on the bridles to stop the impressive steed, and laughed, certain that he was feeling more breathless than his mount.

Jubilation made Diego's body trembling as he stared at the wide landscape stretching at his feet, searching for another hill to challenge the horse.

His eyes had just caught sight of a suite of three steep hills half a mile away when he noticed a large cloud of dust rising on their left. The young don frowned, anxious, when in the middle of the chaos, the curved outlines of a diligencia appeared briefly. A few seconds later, shots echoed, leaving no doubt in his mind about what was happening.

Without hesitation, he threw his white horse at the diligencia's passengers to help, permanently orienting and adapting his mount's course and speed to join them as fast as possible. He was upon to reach the diligencia when he saw a group of _bandidos_ breaking away.

A deep ire seized him for he recognized Señor Zorro amongst them. An ire that transformed into fury when, in a furtive glimpse, he caught sight of Anna-Maria's horrified face at the diligencia's door.

Determined to stop the black scoundrel, he pushed his white horse at the fastest gallop the beast could conjure from its powerful limbs.

As he managed to come up to Zorro's black mount, Diego clenched all his muscles, and jumped on him.

The impact threw them both to the ground. They rolled down a rocky slope, dragging a river of stones and earth in their wake.

Groggy, Diego ignored the complaint of his limbs, and struggled to make it to his feet while casting a nervous glance around him for Zorro.

A satisfied smirk lifted the corner of his mouth upon seeing the outlaw lying, still on his back, a dozen feet further down.

"Let's see who you are, Señor," he muttered, staggering toward him, his sword ready.

But as he stretched a hand to remove his mask, Zorro suddenly pushed him away with a jerk of his hand.

"Keep your manicured paws to yourself, Señor!" he groaned, leaping to his feet, and drawing his sword.

Clenching his teeth at the insult, Diego retreated a few steps and placed himself in guard. How much had he wished for this moment!

An eye on his opponent, the other assessing the roughness of the ground, the young don slowly began to move clockwise, while in front of him, flexible on his legs, Zorro followed his movement.

Before Diego finished completing his turn, he suddenly hit the ground with his right foot, and stretched his sword arm to feign an attack and test his opponent's nervousness. The blades touched in a metallic echo, but Zorro did not engage, contenting himself to beat his sword away. With a large smile, the outlaw continued to circle.

Now expecting Zorro to feign an attack in the very next seconds, Diego stopped, and changed direction to unbalance his opponent.

In the half shadows, the outlaw retreated a step, spinning his blade in front of him.

Diego smiled, not letting himself be disturbed by the movement of the sword. Chaining his impatience, he waited for Zorro to pull his own ruse, for he intended to prove to the outlaw that he was about to meet his match.

But when Zorro moved, it was no feint.

Jumping forward, he beat once and with force on the foible of the young don's blade, lunged close to the ground like an arrow.

With dread, Diego saw the outlaw's sword slicing the air up toward his throat, and cringed in haste in order not to be pierced through and through. Warding off the attack prime in the same instant, he raised his arm to chin level, his blade vertical and pointing toward the ground, to jerk Zorro's sword away.

Anticipating the parry, the Fox pressed on the young don's blade, and swiftly turned around him.

Diego's eyes widened at the maneuver. As he felt the edge of Zorro's sword against his lower back, he pivoted and beat the insolent blade away.

"You are a dashing swordsman, Señor," Zorro cried as he retreated to a safer distance, "Usually I have the time to draw my mark before my opponent reacts!"

Diego felt his blood rushing at once to his face. So this thrust, that could have easily killed him, was merely an attempt for humiliation?

"Know that I am no ordinary opponent," Diego exclaimed, proudly straightening his head and his shoulders as he placed himself back into guard. The man would not get away unscratched after such an affront!

Zorro's smile grew even larger. He slightly joined his feet together and bowed a salute that only enraged the young don further. How did that pesky outlaw dare to mess with him?! He will make him swallow his arrogant manners along with his blade.

Heart knocking hard in his chest, Diego stared at the black devil in front of him, smiling, and spinning again his sword in the void. He was tempting him like a cat would try to attract a mouse with a piece of cheese at the edge of his claw.

The young don clenched his teeth not to groan his disgust, curbing his emotions. One did not fight such a skillful man by letting his humors out of control.

"I am not your enemy, Señor de la Vega," Zorro suddenly claimed, putting the edge of his sword on the ground, consequently stopping the duel.

"I am now! _En garde_, Señor!" Diego replied, deeply irritated.

Immediately, the young don berated himself for shouting. But how hard it was to keep his blood cold in front of such an effrontery!

Zorro tilted his head to the side, and shrugged.

"If you are so determined to fight, then..." he replied, spreading his feet back into guard, "Who am I to deny you the right to die?"

As he said those words, Zorro lunged forward.

The swords clashed, the blades slid, each in turn pressed against the other. The attacks followed on, the parries and the ripostes too.

Soon, Diego's heart beat so fast in his chest that it threatened to burst. But not a single beat was caused by fear. His heart was beating out of thrill. A pure and exhilarating thrill that sharpened his senses and his reflexes, allowing him to move around his adversary with the suppleness of a snake, the velocity of a cougar, and the fierceness of an enraged hyena. Changing his guards fast, and changing aim even faster during his attacks, he used the roughness of the terrain to his advantage, jumping on and down rocks, to drag Señor Zorro in a lethal dance that he alone led and decided the cadence.

However, Señor Zorro was far from being undone. With his black mask and cape, he moved like a wraith. One moment on his left side, he appeared the next behind him, and the next one on top of a rock ten feet on his left, as evasive as the wind. A hundred times Diego thought his thrusts had touched; a hundred times his blade only pierced thin air. And if Zorro's attacks were fierce and his parries swift, his ripostes were fearsome and deadly precise, to the point that the man seemed to be born with a blade instead of an arm.

"We are no enemy, Señor!" the outlaw said again, breathless, as they suddenly found themselves face to face, their swords having slid against one another to the guard.

"I have no use of your pity!" Diego growled, panting as he cast a quick glance at a ravine beneath his feet. A ravine so deep that the bottom was as dark as ink.

"You shall have it anyway, for I have no wish to kill you."

"Coward!"

"Coming from you, Señor, this insult sounds a bit cheeky!" Zorro growled.

"Cheeky? This coming from a man who hides himself behind a mask to rob the poor people, a gutless dog without honor?!" Diego snarled, searching to enrage his adversary for rage was a ground for mistakes and the outlaw was showing its first symptoms.

"Do not mistake me for a common thug, Señor! I might be named many ways, but I've never been accused of being without honor! And know that I wear a mask only to protect those who are dear to me. Alas, now I see that to conceal my identity was not enough. I should have gagged my heart too."

Diego's brow furrowed.

"Anna-Maria?" he asked, troubled to hear such a confession.

Zorro stared at him, mouth slightly opened as if he were going to say something. But no words came out. Just a discreet nod.

"You don't deserve her!" Diego interjected, aggressive as he pressed further.

Growling out of rage, Zorro pushed him away with a strength that would have made Hercules turn pale. With dread, Diego felt his right foot skidding on a rock that gave way under his weight, and he fell down the steep ravine.

Aware that no desperate attempt would keep him from rolling all the way down, Diego curled himself into as tight a ball as he could to protect his head and his belly as much as possible. Clenching his teeth to bear the pain as sharp stones dug in his back, and in his exposed sides, arms, and shins, he prayed for this endless nightmare to come to a halt. Groggy, he was almost not aware anymore of his predicament when he suddenly felt his body splashing into cold waters. Icy cold waters that stole his breath away as his head disappeared below the surface, causing him to swallow a mouthful.

Lungs burning, he threw his arms in panic to catch anything at hands reach.

* * *

"Diego!" Anna-Maria cried, thanking God upon seeing the young don's face resurfacing a few feet from her.

An instant earlier, the _bandido_ had hauled Diego on the Black's back, and tried to mount behind. But the horse had kicked and started off like a devil to rush into the waters, unaware that his caballero could not hold by himself.

A cry of terror had sprung from Anna-Maria's throat upon seeing him disappearing below the surface, and before she knew what she was doing, she was jumping into the water to his help.

But the Black was faster than her, and reached his master first. With relief, she then saw Diego grasping the mane, and hauling himself with difficulty on the steed's back.

Suddenly, Anna-Maria felt the current strengthening, and pulling her under the surface. Struggling to avoid sinking, she cried for help when she felt a hand seizing her arm.

"Hold on to the mane!" the _bandido_ shouted.

Throat burning as she coughed the water out of her lungs, Anna-Maria clung as tight as she could, terrified to see the two high cliffs that formed the passageway coming closer fast as the current dragged them toward the gorge. This was pure madness. They were all going to die.

Praying to God to spare them, she closed her eyes to cry when she saw Diego and the Black disappearing in the opening.

As the darkness suddenly densified, the echo of the raging waters on the walls became deafening. Would have she had the strength, Anna-Maria would not have been able to open her eyes for the foam was daunting. Several times, she swallowed mouthfuls of water, and soon found herself desperately gasping for air. Feeling as if being drowned slowly, she clung on the mane to the point her hand and arm hurt, and focused on the only thought that could make her survive this endless ordeal. Diego. Though she could not see him, she knew he was in front of her. She had to hold on for him; for when the waters would become calmer, he would need her help. She had to be ready.

"Let go of the horse!" the _bandido_ suddenly shouted. "Now!"

Scared, Anna-Maria cried and let go when she felt the _bandido's_ arm digging in her abdomen as he tried to drag her away from their mount. Having no more support, she panicked. Her arms beat the waters in a disordered manner, her legs kicking fast in a desperate attempt not to sink.

She was running out of strength when the waters seemed to vanish beneath her. Paralyzed by a primal fear, she felt herself falling into the void before splashing into a deep lake. As she struggled to make it to the surface, something suddenly restrained her. Nerves frayed, she shouted the little air her lungs contained.

"Please, calm down, Anna-Maria! It's me, Diego."

The young don's voice jerked her out of panic. Though still not able to calm down completely, Anna-Maria turned her head to her left side, and gasped.

"Diego?" she whispered as a cough seized her. "Diego... I... I..."

"Shh... Save your strength, you're safe now," he added, dragging her toward the bank. "You're safe, Anna-Maria," he repeated, his voice a whisper.

Her frayed nerves failing, she began to cry when he hauled her in his arms, and walked out of the waters. Shaking from head to toe, and clung on his neck as tight as she could. As he put her down on the ground, and kneeled, still holding her, she felt his hand stroking her face to remove wet locks of hair from her tearful eyes.

"Are you all right? No wounds?" he asked, staring at her with a genuine worry.

Too deeply shaken to talk, she shook her head before burying it in his shoulder and crying without restrain.

"Madre de Dios, I am so sorry for all this, Anna-Maria," he whispered after a moment, delicately taking her head between his hands before kissing her lips with passion.

The Black chose this moment to join and interrupt them by giving a little push in Diego's shoulder, snatching Anna-Maria a sweet laugh, and Diego an amused glance when the steed neighed.

"What a romantic instant! It is but a crime to interrupt it. However, is committing crime not a _bandido'_s reason to breathe?"

Anna-Maria's eyes widened upon seeing the _bandido_ pointing the pistol at them with a devilish smile on his face.

At once, Diego stood up and turned on his heels to face him, while he pushed her behind him.

"Certainly, Señor, you ought to know that soaked powder will not explode," he said with a calm but sharp voice. A dangerous combination she used to hear only while he was dressed in Zorro's clothes.

The man smiled, and began to laugh. A sinister laugh that grew louder and louder, and made him look insane.

"Indeed. Where was my mind?" he said with a smirk, throwing the pistol above his shoulder. "Talking about troubled minds, the señorita present here told me you received a blow to the head recently. A very bad blow that caused you to lose all memory of who you are. Is that right?"

Anna-Maria slightly jumped upon feeling Diego's hands leaving her sides as he suddenly moved forward to pace with an annoyed expression on his face.

"Here is an interesting question, Señor. If my memory was damaged by this... blow, would I remember receiving it in the first place?"

The man laughed again.

"I must admit that I missed you dearly these last three years. Life has been but a boredom chore without you. Like a dish missing spices."

"Oh, surely you are granting me too much honor... Señor?" Diego's brow furrowed as he asked this question.

"Enrique Sanchez Monastario. At your service," the _bandido_ replied, bowing in a salute. "If we are going to play, I have a small piece to perform for you. What do you say, Señor de la Vega?"

"Oh! That it depends on the ins and outs, Señor Monastario. Why don't you tell me a bit more about this play? I'll then decide if I am in or not."

"I can certainly give you its name," Monastario said, suddenly removing one of the two swords that hung at his side. As he folded his arm to present the weapon, guard toward Diego, he added, "The fall of the luckiest swordsman of Alta California. And you have the title role."

Holding her breath, Anna-Maria watched Diego lowering his eyes on the weapon, and nodded to himself.

"A tragedy, then. And me who thought that you were more a man of comedy..." he said, accepting the sword.

"Comedy or tragedy, it is only a matter of point of view," Monastario replied through clenched teeth.

"Indeed, Señor, I would not have said it clearer. But I'm curious, if I am the luckiest swordsman. You, who are you?" he asked, appreciating the balance of the blade, and slicing the air with a swift move.

"The set being el Canyon del Diablo, I will of course be the devil who will make you stagger once and for all," Monastario said, picking up the bag at his feet, and throwing it to Diego.

Anna-Maria cast an anxious look at the young don as he caught it.

"What is this for?" the latter asked, curious.

"Come on, Señor de la Vega, have you also forgotten that all actors must be dressed properly for a show?"

"Ah. My costume then," Diego replied with an intrigued smile.

Anna-Maria's heart missed a beat when she saw him removing one by one Zorro's garments, and looking at them as if he did not know by which end to take them.

"Seems of a good fabric, where did you get those?" Diego asked, finally finding the up and down of the cape.

"Ask the señorita, she might get you a few _answers,_" Monastario replied with a smile that Anna-Maria could tell was forced. Diego was getting on the man's nerves, and she loved it.

"Stagger you said earlier? You are thinking too much of yourself certainly. Anyway, you are obviously a free man, and by definition, a free man can do and think what he wants to," he added while he unrolled the long, black waist scarf that held together his mask, pants, and shirt.

Everything fell to the ground.

Watching Diego looking horrified by his clumsiness, Anna-Maria bit her lips not to let out a laugh. This was so Diego. The Diego she knew from all along. He was back, she was certain. This was only his way to play. In many ways, Ricardo and he were alike. Clowns always searching for a trick to have some fun, like the time where the young don had emptied the chocolate box Ricardo wanted to offer her, and placed a piece of wood with a Z carved on it in their place. This was Zorro. This was Diego.

"If you want, you can ask the señorita for help. She seems eager to assist you," Anna-Maria heard the _bandido_ suddenly saying with a sigh of impatience.

Caught in her memory, she shook her head and felt her eyes widening upon seeing Diego shirtless. At once, her absent-minded smile vanished and a strong rush of blood colored her cheeks as she swiftly pivoted on her heels, covering her mouth with a hand to deafen her embarrassment.

"I wonder, Señor," Diego said, sounding serious, "This play only concerns my person and yours."

"Oh! On the contrary, the señorita will have a minor role, but very important like in all romantic tragedies throughout the centuries. The one to cry over your dead body. I would leave her a dagger if I was not too afraid to receive it between the shoulder blades upon leaving the stage. But do not feel despaired, Señorita. Maybe a snake will pass nearby. Like Cleopatra after Marc Antony's death, you will let yourself be bitten in order to join your hero in the afterlife."

"Only if you kill me, Señor. Only if you kill me," Diego replied, the voice fawning and dangerous, "Gracias a Dios! This costume is perfectly fitting. But where is yours, Señor? I wonder if a uniform could hide such grime. Certainly not a King's army one."

Upon hearing these words, Anna-Maria bit her lips again and risked a glance above her shoulder. Thrill seized her at the sight of Diego, dressed in the fox's clothes, falsely nonchalant as he stood up with the edge of his sword toward the ground, both hands on the knob as if it were a common walking stick.

"Ah! I recognize you well here, de la Vega, an arrogant boaster who takes a liking to play with words to dupe the feeble-minded, weaklings, and other miscreants around him about his true and vile nature. It never worked on me."

"Never?"

"Never!" Monastario spit, raising his sword in guard.

"Very well then," he said, imitating the move, before suddenly putting its edge back on the ground. "Though, before we begin this _play_, I must confess that I am troubled. You see, it's the first time I am given a role and I want to give my best. I know there is a customary word to say at the beginning of a duel, I have it on the tip of my tongue..."

"Enough, de la Vega!" Monastario barked, his face reddening out of rage.

"Shh! I'm thinking," Diego replied with a reproach tone, maintaining his position while lowering his gaze on the ground, and slightly turning away, apparently leaving his opponent out of sight. "Ah! I got it," he suddenly interjected, causing Anna-Maria to jump and utter a strangled cry that transformed into a large smile upon hearing:

"_En garde,_ mi Capitán!"


	16. Chapter 16

_AN: For those of you who live on the East coast, I do hope you are all right and safe._ _Here is the second to last chapter. May it bring you some entertainment in this rough beginning of winter.  
_

* * *

_An apple for Tornado_

_Chapter 16_

* * *

After their verbal exchange, Zorro and Monastario started to circle around one another.

The tension was palpable in their shoulders, which they held straighter than usual. All their muscles were tense with the knowledge that, in the next few minutes, only one of them would be alive, or maybe they would be both dead, as in such duels, there was no certitude about the winner's fate. Seriously injured, the canyon could also become his grave. He would then die shortly after his adversary, having the only, though deep, satisfaction that the enemy had succumbed before him.

However, below his mask, Zorro did not believe that such a scenario would arise.

In his eyes glistened a dangerous sharpness. A sharpness that would make his sword terrifyingly alive. For the despicable plot to use Anna-Maria in order to get him had enraged him beyond his usual restraint. The time for playing was well and truly past.

Feeling a deep disgust, Zorro stared coolly at Monastario.

He knew the man; he knew his blade even better. Though excellent, it lacked complete creativity for it had been formed in a strict military school. He had fought his kind many times during his years in Madrid. Monastario made no exception. As he had often joked with Marcos, the Viceroy's son, a soldier was only dangerous to another soldier.

_Breathe while you can, Capitán. The devil's breath is waiting for your soul._

Zorro slightly adjusted his grip on the guard, keeping his threat silent. From now on, only his sword would speak.

_I know the man; I know his blade._

The soles of his boots barely audible on the dusty ground, he swirled his sword to tease his opponent, to push him to attack.

_I am ready and waiting for you, dog from hell!_

A dozen feet in front of him, Monastario stared at him with his usual coldness in his eyes and his ferocious smile.

_He thinks he knows my blade. He's in for a surprise._

Monastario would see the real fencer below the mask today. Not the one who wanted to hold the soldiers at bay without causing them too much harm. For in all their precedent duels, the rogue officer had merely tasted his defensive blade. Now, he was about to feel the burn of his attacking one.

_He thinks I'll allow him the first assault._

An evil smirk distorted Señor Zorro's mouth as he immobilized his blade, his feet, and suddenly moved forward with the velocity of a hawk on his prey.

With the squeaking of chalk on a blackboard, his sword slid and wrapped around Monastario's blade. The parry came. Expected. The retreat too. Even more expected. Zorro pressed the assault, not letting his opponent place his counter-attack. The blades clashed, and Zorro lunged forward, stretching his arm. Monastario retreated again and warded off in time to avoid his left thigh being pierced through and through. But swift, Zorro had changed his aim. The next moment, his blade sliced the air in front of his enemy's head.

A cry of pain and fear escaped Monastario's lips upon seeing the sword springing in front of his eyes. Surprised by the ruse, he staggered and fell backward.

Zorro hastily retreated to place himself back into guard at a safe distance.

This first assault, that not even lasted fifteen seconds, had proceeded as intended. Satisfied, the fox stared at Monastario raising a hesitant hand to his forehead, who turned pale upon seeing blood on his fingers; blood coming from a long, horizontal graze. His trouble pleased Zorro who smirked. No doubt the dog was wondering if he had just been scalped, and was scared to be already dead.

_Not yet, _Zorro thought, ready for the next offensive.

Though this blow could have mortally wounded his adversary, Zorro did not wish the duel to end too quickly. As he intended to carve a personal message to el Diablo before sending him back the cadaver of his filthy servant, this first assault would be followed by three others, the last being the final blow.

Zorro tightened his grasp on his sword's guard as soon as he saw Monastario's cheeks getting back some color. Humiliated, he knew the rogue officer's fury would unleash his blade as soon as he would be on his feet. And so he was prepared.

An external eye would have seen both men attacking at the same time.

However, Zorro, the eye quick, and the reflexes even quicker, in fact attacked a quarter-second earlier. Enough to allow him to reach the enemy blade first, and take control of it. The next instant, Monastario's sword flew into the air, while Zorro pressed again his blade on his forehead.

The latter hastily moved back, crying out of pain, surprise, and ire.

"Pick up your sword, Monastario. I'm not finished with you," Zorro growled, deeply satisfied to see blood pearling from a second graze, parallel and one inch lower to the first.

As he said those words, the face of the former commandante of Los Angeles' garrison was worth the tremendous effort to chain his will to kill the bastard without delay.

"I'll make you pay dearly this affront, de la Vega!"

Upon hearing his name while wearing the mask, Zorro suddenly winced as his headache resurfaced and a slight dizziness seized him. In the little moment he took to get a hold on himself, Monastario swooped down on him with a cry of rage.

The blades clashed more violently and longer this time.

Clenching his teeth, Zorro retreated three times before realizing that a large rock stood behind him. Wedged, he pushed forward his counter-attack. But now that Monastario had seen the extent of his mastery at fencing, the rogue did not feel suicidal enough to continue to duel with honor. As the blades slid against each other, and they both found themselves face to face, the rogue suddenly yielded and punched Zorro with the pommel of his sword, before kicking him hard in the guts with his knee.

Breath stolen away, and pain exploding on his lower face that seemed to swell out of proportions, Zorro staggered backward and crashed against the rock. Out of pure instinct of survival, he immediately threw himself on the right side. Monastario's blade only grazed his left arm instead of piercing his heart.

While Anna-Maria's scream of terror reverberated not far behind him, Zorro picked up his sword, and pivoted just in time to ward off another attack. But not having regained completely his balance, he fell backward again when Monastario threw himself on him, clenching his fingers on his wounded arm. Another cry of pain escaped Zorro's lips as this arm already suffered from having been shot.

Enraged by the rogue's behavior, he punched him hard, and kicked him in the belly to send him flying above his head. With a dull sound and a growl, Monastario landed flat on his back a few feet behind Zorro, and rolled down the slight slope toward the river that the cascade of water springing out of the gorge continued to supply.

Wincing in pain, Zorro turned on his belly, and pushed on his right hand to stand up. Keeping his left arm close to his chest, he then staggered toward his sword that he had again let go, picked it up, and placed himself back into guard.

"I've known peones who fought like caballeros. It's a shame you fall in neither category. Pick up your blade so you can at least die the head high like a King's army officer!"

"I shall cut your tongue with my sword before!" Monastario snarled, stepping out of the waters and moving back up the slope.

"Come and try; I need a laugh!"

The duel continued. But this time, Zorro was careful not to let Monastario move forward more than necessary.

As Monastario lunged, stretching his arm, Zorro then saw the opportunity he was waiting for. With force, he beat the blade away and, unusual thing if it is, he suddenly inverted his guard by bringing his rear foot to the front. This movement allowed him to pass his sword behind his back just as Monastario passed by him on his left side.

Uttering a small shriek, the latter cringed in haste to avoid impaling himself on the weapon, and beat the blade away. Using the added push on his sword, Zorro re-established his guard, and swung back his blade straight in front of him, right at the perfect distance.

For the third time, Monastario could not avoid Zorro's blade to carve a line in his forehead, a long diagonal that joined the two firsts scratches.

Zorro had to bite his lips not let out the jubilation that boiled in his veins upon seeing his enemy falling backward on the ground, panting, streams of blood running down from his _mark_. Deeply satisfied, he retreated and placed himself back into guard at a safe distance.

"Time for the final act, mi Capitán. Your horned master is waiting for you, and I heard he was not a patient kind," he said with a coldness in his voice that would have made him shudder if he had heard it from another person's mouth.

The effect these words caused was immediate.

With the fierceness of a cornered beast, Monastario leaped to his feet and swooped down on him.

Zorro wrapped his blade around Monastario's, and in a very vivacious move, he snatched it away from his hand for the second time. However, this did not halt the fury standing in front of him. Well on the contrary. The distance between them already broken, the rogue threw himself on him with a cry of rage.

Zorro hastily retreated his wounded arm out of hand's reach. But this was a mistake, as in the quarter of second this move took him, Monastario punched him with a right hook. _In_ _extremis_, Zorro blocked, before feeling a sharp blow suddenly sweeping his feet. As he hit the ground flat on his back, Monastario kicked his sword out of his hand, and fell astride on him with all his weight. The strong compression of his rib cage caused all air to blow out of his lungs; while in the meantime, his enemy dug his knees in his arms to immobilize him. Without any chance to defend himself, Zorro then felt the sharp point of a dagger piercing his throat.

"Diego!"

As Anna-Maria's terrified scream reverberated, and blood started to run down his neck, Zorro saw Monastario stopping a brief second to enjoy his victory.

"Who's the devil now?" the scoundrel asked, snatching his mask away.

Heart knocking wildly in his chest, Diego was sure he was about to drown in his own blood, when suddenly, Monastario emitted a gurgled sound, and fell dead on him, an arrow through his chest.

Wincing at the pain caused by the arrow's sharp edge falling right on his solar plexus, Zorro hastily rolled the body of his enemy away from him, and stood up quickly, panting.

Staggering, he raised a panicked glance at the cliff facing them, expecting to see the Blood Tribe about to finish their work. But no horde was surrounding them. There was just a lonely silhouette, standing in the hollow of the gorge.

He was collapsing to his knees when Anna-Maria reached him, and helped him to stay on his feet.

Staring at the Indian who had just saved his life, Diego took a few deep breaths to ease his erratic breathing, and bowed his head in salute. The native imitated him, raising his bow before lowering it.

Silent, Diego stayed staring at the gorge after the silhouette had disappeared back into its shadows, feeling a sweet peace soothing his frayed nerves completely.

Tokala had saved his life again.


	17. Chapter 17

_An apple for Tornado_

_Chapter 17_

* * *

Exhausted, Diego straightened his stiff back, and headed to pick up his sword a few feet away. Feeling his legs wobbling as adrenaline slowly abandoned his body, he sat down on the ground, and held the blade in front of his eyes, staring perplexed at the thinly chiseled guard.

_By all Saints! How could this sword have ended here in my hands?_ he wondered as Anna-Maria kneeled next to him, and asked him if he was all right, a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

The young don frowned, uncertain.

"The last time I had this sword in hand, I was six years old," he finally said, a smirk appearing on his lips, "Never saw my father angrier at me than that day. Somehow, he did not appreciate that I used it against an imaginary fox in the henhouse. The poor chickens were running everywhere in panic, trying not to be sliced by a blade that did not care about collateral damages."

Diego stopped, shaking his head, briefly cheered by the memory. But his smile vanished, and his eyes darkened.

"Monastario said it was hung around Tornado's neck?"

"Tornado? Oh, sí. It was. With the bag."

Diego sighed deeply as he tried to make some sense out of this information.

Bernardo had hung the bag with the fox's clothes around the stallion's neck. But not this sword. No. Only his father could have... that meant he knew he was Zorro. But since when? Diego shuddered. His loyal friend must have been so confused and afraid when he had stormed out of the sala. Had he rushed into his father shortly after, and inadvertently let slip his identity in the turmoil of the moment? Or did his father catch him red-handed while he disappeared through the secret passage?

The young don suddenly straightened, and shifted uneasily with a wince of pain when a realization struck him.

"What is it, Diego?"

"Remember the day of the amnesty?"

"How could I forget it?" she replied, sounding slightly insulted.

Diego bit his lips, understanding her vivid reaction that showed how painful the wound still was. Painful, sí, it still was for him too.

The unpleasant knot that had accompanied him in the following days of this dark second, where all his hopes for a normal life had been swept away, clenched his guts again.

To add to the burden, his father, eager to leave for Los Angeles just after his return from the lancers hunting party, had not left him any possibility to say a proper farewell to Anna-Maria. They had dropped at the Verdugo's hacienda on their way out of town, but only the domestics were present by then. Saying that it was maybe better that way, the old don had insisted on leaving without waiting for her return.

The young don clenched his teeth. On the moment, he had not given any thoughts on his father's words, too preoccupied to control a growing sorrow. And indeed, it might have been better to leave without talking to Anna-Maria a last time, sparing his heart. Though it had not helped him in the following months to shift away the sharp grasp of melancholy on his soul.

Often at night, he saw her singing at her balcony, cutting flowers. Their sweet fragrance would rise in his mind, and soothe his tormented sleep.

"You were radiant, Anna-Maria, under the morning sun, a rose in the middle of jasmine... After witnessing such happiness, I truly intended to accept the governor's offer of amnesty."

"Why then did you change your mind?" the young señorita asked, distress sounding in her voice and showing on her face.

Diego winced, and took a deep breath to control his emotions as he dived back into this tormented memory.

"When I returned to my hiding place to change, I was assaulted and knocked down. Upon regaining consciousness, my hands and feet were tied. A man, dressed like Zorro save for his face, completely concealed behind a black hood, handed me a note saying that the people of California counted on me, asking me not to give up on them. Just after the Angelus, he freed Bernardo and left."

Diego paused to swallow a painful lump in his throat. When he spoke again, it was more to himself.

"He must have masqueraded his hand writing, or I was too much in turmoil at that moment to notice..."

"He? Who he?"

"My father."

An awkward silence fell. Not certain of his feelings upon this unexpected deduction, Diego lowered his gaze on the ground.

"So you were going to accept it, had you not been stopped by... by your own father?"

The young don turned a sad glance toward her, and, biting his lips, he nodded yes. It made sense. The previous day in the tavern, the old don had told him that Ricardo was right. That Zorro would not accept the offer. Too many people counted on him. He could not give up on them for selfish reasons. These words had hurt, like only the truth could.

"I'm sorry, Anna-Maria, I know these words are too weak for such pain, but-"

The young señorita raised her hand on his lips to silence him.

"It is me who is sorry, Diego..." she whispered, tears pearling in her eyes, "Never once did I think about the oppressed peones who needed you. I was a selfish little girl to ask you to give up everything for me. Every night since that day, I would stand on my balcony, hoping to catch a glimpse of your shadow in the hills. Some nights, I would wake up from an agitated sleep, certain that the wind carried the neigh of your horse. Then, I would collapse at my window, my heart burning for your unexpected visit... and now, I'm shaking at the only thought that this is but a dream, and that my true ordeal is not finished."

Diego took a deep breath, and held her tight against him.

"Your ordeal is finished, Anna-Maria," he said, stroking her hair and face, kissing her. Tears dropped on his fingers. Delicately, he swept them away from her dark eyes, repeating his words to soothe his own heart as he held her tighter his body, "If your heart still desires my soul, I swear not to ever let you away from me."

How long did they stay, silently hugging each other, the young could not say. But when the intense burning in his belly threatened to cause him to lose control of his honor, he forced his arms to open, and broke their embrace. As he did so, he caught sight of the ominous clouds massing in the sky.

"We'd better not linger at the bottom of the canyon any longer," he said, retreating until his feet touched the water in order to get as good a view as possible on _el_ _Serpiente's_ sinuous path.

To his dismay, he realized that they could not hope to use this way of exit.

As he turned his glance to the cliff on the other side of the river, the young don suddenly gasped, and turned back his eyes on _el Serpiente_, fear seizing his heart.

Why had his father and Bernardo let Tornado go down alone? Was one of them injured? The memory of his return to the hacienda after his fall was still a bit fuzzy in his mind. However, he recalled that Bernardo was with him when Monastario's brother and accomplice had burst through the sala's door. But who had they met on their path? In his disorientation and ire, he could have easily missed a...

Diego closed his eyes out of dread and swallowed a lump.

_Father... _

As his glance fell on the ancestral sword again, his heart started to pound faster in his chest.

Keeping his fear silent, he walked toward his caballero's clothes, untying his cape and rolling it.

"Pardon me, Diego," Anna-Maria said, stopping his hand from unbuttoning his shirt, "but I think it would be wiser not to cause people to wonder why Zorro did not come to our rescue."

The young don frowned upon seeing the grave expression on her face. As he grasped the extent of her remark, he turned pale, and his hands clenched on his caballero's clothes. She was right. With a rescue party probably roaming the hills to their search, _Diego_ could not be seen near Zorro's stallion without the outlaw being there too, let alone riding the black horse. And as he could no more split in two than leave Tornado here, he had no choice but to stay in the fox's skin for now.

_Will I be forced to play all my life? _he wondered, taking a deep breath to control his ire as he put _Diego's_ clothes in the bag.

Feeling Anna-Maria's reassuring hand on his back, he adjusted his hat on his head, and whistled for Tornado.

"Come, mi amigo," he said to the valiant steed who straight away closed on him at a small trot, "We're going back home."

After helping Anna-Maria to mount the _bandido's_ horse, he jumped on his stallion bare back, and silent, he guided them along the river. A mile further, the sandy bank on which they rode narrowed without giving them any access to _el Serpiente. _

Coming to a halt, Diego cast a glance at the cliff on the other side of the river. Though the bank was larger there, and seemed to continue along the waters as far he could see, they could not hope climbing to the top easily. A shudder ran down his spine. Getting Tornado out of this trap was going to be more difficult than he had imagined. Worried, Diego made them cross the stream to ride on the opposite side, relying on the thin hope that the cliff would lower or become less steep at some point to allow them to escape this trap.

After riding two miles or so on the river's right side, the waters began to rage, and the loud sound of rapids growling reverberated. The bank narrowed and became more uneven, climbing up and down, until the canyon spread opened at their feet in a breath-taking view.

Diego closed his eyes and took a deep breath, though it was not to control a fit of vertigo.

Tornado must have felt his trouble, for he nervously kicked the ground, and moved around.

The young don stroked his steed neck to reassure him. Swallowing a lump, he dismounted and walked to the edge. As he looked down, his jaw slightly relaxed. Though it seemed to dive directly into the canyon's depths, there was in fact a suite of more or less large steps on which the foaming waters cascaded down till the bottom of the canyon, three hundred feet beneath them.

The first landing, merely two feet below them, moved away and turned around the cliff they were following.

"Stay here, Anna-Maria, I'm going to check this path," he said, jumping down on the ground.

Twenty minutes later, Diego came back, relieved to have found a way out, even if it was not going to be easy. After a curve, it narrowed to a barely three-foot wide trail. Just enough for a horse to ride.

Tense, he joined Anna-Maria on the edge of the cascade. "Are you okay?" he asked, worried by her frozen glance.

Jerked out of her thoughts, she turned her eyes toward him and nodded.

Though he could read fear in her eyes, he chose not to press the matter. Sometimes, it was best not to ponder too long in front of a difficult moment, merely clenching one's teeth, and endure, one step at a time.

"We'll walk from here," he said, moving back toward his stallion, "Take the front with Tornado. He's well used to riding close to precipices, and will move on without difficulty."

A few seconds later, he stopped his steed just behind Anna-Maria, saying, "Follow the señorita, mi amigo."

As he jumped back on the platform, the young don paused a second to check on the duo. Satisfied to see Tornado calm, he then moved toward the other horse. Not knowing him, he was worried about how he would react. The slightest panic could be fatal on such a narrow path.

Carefully, they made a slow progress on the trail until they arrived at the bottom of a rocky formation, where centuries of rain and wind had shaped hoodoos. In the deep, winding cracks between the dark, giant figures, Diego made them climb.

Somewhere in the middle of their way to the top of the canyon, thunder roared, echoing longly in the canyon.

The young don raised a worried eye toward the sky. After so many weeks of drought, the clouds would unleash a hard rain. Fearing the muddy torrent their path could become, he pressed Anna-Maria to climb faster. But in a particular tight vein between two long hoodoos, Tornado slid, causing her to fall between his legs. Alarmed, Diego ordered his stallion to stay still. Letting go of the other horse, he climbed above the large rock to move up front, and after extracting her from her predicament, he then helped Anna-Maria to reach the next platform.

Exhausted, she let herself collapse against a rock, and buried her head in her shaking limbs.

Worried to see her strength running low, Diego looked up. The top of the cliff was still a hundred feet overhead.

"We're almost there, Anna-Maria. Take a small rest here. I'm going to bring the horses further up, and I'll come back to help you."

Ignoring his own pains and tiredness, he clenched his teeth, and slid back toward Tornado.

About fifteen minutes later, his stallion was safely on the top, and he was now tugging on the other horse's bridle when a blinding and deafening lightning bolt streaked the canyon. Under his feet, the rocky ground vibrated as if an earthquake had just hit, causing the horse to panic.

As he tried to calm him, Diego suddenly saw in the distance an opaque curtain of rain heading at a fast rate toward them. At once, he let go of the horse, and slid down toward Anna-Maria's position.

"Come!" he said, hauling her up on her feet.

If he was correctly oriented - and he was - they were on the other side of the deep gorge that he now understood was the long fault he had often seen from the highest hills. The closest place to jump was at the Devil's Hoof, a strange, suspended islet in the middle of the void. A difficult jump in ordinary times; an impossible one if the storm was upon them.

Heart beating wildly in his chest, he ignored the burning pain of his wounded arm, and dragged Anna-Maria to the top of the cliff. Without wasting a second by glancing above his shoulder, he lifted her on Tornado's back.

"Cling on the mane as tight as you can!" he warned, mounting behind her and tightening his elbows around her body.

Deciding to beat the tempest to the Devil's Hoof, visible in the distance less than half a mile away, he kicked his steed's sides to prompt him in gallop. "Ya!"

Behind them, the rain struck the cliff with a deafening sound. The wrath of hell closing on their tail like a moving blade, he made Tornado jump the fault a second before a thick veil swallowed the arid landscape around them.

Unbalanced on the steed's bare back, Diego clenched his teeth and contracted all his muscles to keep him and Anna-Maria mounted. But scared by the blinding downpour, the stallion got carried away by his momentum at the reception of his last jump, and started to gallop at a very high speed.

Certain that they were all about to fall, Anna-Maria, him and Tornado along, Diego suddenly pulled on the mane. His stallion slowed down abruptly and rose on his rear legs. Expecting this panicked reaction, the young don jumped from his back, dragging Anna-Maria with him roughly to the ground. Scared that Tornado would kick and break off in gallop again, he stood up straight away, and moved at his side to calm him.

Heart beating wildly in his chest, Diego talked to the stallion, grabbing his nose so he could smell his odor, stroking his neck, until he finally stopped neighing and kicking.

Relieved, the young don briefly leaned his forehead against Tornado's nose, and took a moment to calm his own breath. As he readjusted his hat on his head, he saw Anna-Maria sitting on the submerged ground, huddled up under the fierce rain.

"Are you all right?" he asked, feeling her body shaking from head to toe as he hugged her.

But either the storm that lit up the sky every ten seconds covered her words, or she did not answer; he could not tell.

Worried that she had reached a breaking point, he delicately hauled her in his arms, and helped her to mount back on Tornado. Staying on the ground, he then glanced anxiously at the wild landscape to orient himself. When he was pretty certain in which direction to head, he grasped Tornado's mane, and made him move with caution, clenching his teeth to endure the twenty-five miles to his father's lands.

At some point, the wind weakened, and the rain became thinner. As visibility cleared enough to ride safely at a small trot, he mounted back on Tornado with relief. Shortly after, Anna-Maria's head began to swing with the horse's cadence. Realizing that she had succumbed to exhaustion in his lap, he adjusted her head in the hollow of his shoulder, and eased down his stallion's pace.

He had completely lost track of time when Tornado suddenly came to a halt and slightly raised on his rear.

Feeling a spike of adrenaline waking his senses up, Diego jerked his head straight, and frowned upon seeing three silhouettes at a very short distance. Alarmed to see another one appearing in the veil of rain, he drew his sword, and sighed of relief almost in the same breath. The last apparition was of a very distinguishable shape.

"Señores!" he cried to halt them, putting back his blade in his case.

Upon recognizing the three other men, Diego had to bite his lips not let out a cry of joy, for the shadow of a terrible sorrow disappeared at once.

"Señor Zorro?" his father asked, moving back on his path toward him.

"Sí, Señor de la Vega," Diego replied as he set foot on the ground, careful to catch Anna-Maria's sleeping body in his arms. "She is unhurt, but went through difficult times these last days. Take great care of her, por favor, Señor," he added, clenching his teeth to bear the pain in his arm and stiff limbs as he lifted her on his father's horse.

"And Don Diego, Señor Zorro," suddenly inquired Sergeant Garcia as he mounted back on Tornado, "I don't see him anywhere. Is he not with you?"

"He had to stop while we climbed to the top of the canyon. He insisted that I take Señorita Verdugo to safety first. I'm going back to help him now."

"If he is hurt, then you will certainly need help," Garcia affirmed, his eyes staring far away with worry, "I am coming with you."

"It is all at your honor, Sergeant, and I am certain Don Diego will appreciate your concern. However, he does not require a lot of help, merely a horse to jump the Devil's Hoof."

"The Devil's Hoof?" Garcia repeated, eyes wide with dread and raindrops falling from the edge of his hat.

Zorro nodded, mischief gleaming in his hazel eyes.

"Sergeant," Don Alejandro intervened, "We must take Señorita Verdugo under shelter quickly. I trust Señor Zorro to bring my son back home, safe and sound. We shall not delay him any longer. Señor? My hacienda is not far away, about fifteen miles north-east from this position. When you come back, keep this series of hills to your left until you see the mission bell tower, then fork east completely. A fifteen minute ride will take you to my front gate."

"Gracias for the indications, Señor de la Vega," Zorro replied, raising a perplexed eyebrow. Why did his father feel the need to be so precise about the hacienda's location?

_Ah! The amnesia... right._

By all Saints! His mind obviously was still fuzzy. Though he guessed it would be expected, at least for the next few days.

Garcia must have told his father that he was rather confused after his riding _accident._ Diego sighed, feeling suddenly sheepish. Next time he will have to justify a wound on his head, he will pretend an apple had fallen on his head while he was sleeping below an apple tree. That or a shelf filled with books.

The young don frowned, struck by a curious realization. He did not have to justify himself anymore! At least, not in front of his father. A crooked smile appeared on his face.

"Don't worry, Señor," he said, wishing to reassure his father about his mental health, "I won't lose myself. Our good sergeant here made me ride through your lands many times by the past."

Then, he saluted with his usual wave of the arm, and broke off in a gallop back toward the canyon. Though he did not intend to retrace his steps, merely did he wish to give the impression. When he was far away enough not to be visible anymore – less than a mile thanks to the veil of rain that struck the arid plain – he made Tornado slowly navigate a long ellipse curve in order to join the other extremity of his father's lands.

A lonely figure under the fierce elements, he headed toward the safety of his den, slowly becoming impervious to the rain that saturated his clothes and chilled his flesh to the bone.

When the Fox finally dragged Tornado through the branches, he was walking half-asleep. Pure automatisms guiding his moves, he led his stallion toward his enclosure, removed his gloves, his mask and untied his cape that slid on the ground with a soaked rustling. Then, unable to stay on his feet much longer, he leaned a hand on the granitic wall, and slowly sat down on the ground. Oblivious to the quick steps rushing to his side, he let himself drift toward a much needed sleep.

* * *

The light song of a bird carried by a soft breeze slowly yanked back Diego to the world.

Feeling rested, he opened his eyes, and stared absently at the decor of his bedroom, pleasantly bathed in half-shadows.

Slightly disoriented, he rose on his elbows, and saw Bernardo asleep on the chair next to the fireplace. As he leaned back on his pillow, he noticed a bowl on his night table, and craned his neck. There was a thin layer of broth at the bottom. Diego raised a perplexed eyebrow. He did not recall drinking any of the soup. Had he been so sick not to remember? He found it quite difficult to believe for he felt perfectly fine.

Eager to breathe some fresh air, the young don pulled the sheets away, and stood up, casting a quick look on his clock. As it was barely five in the morning, he took his blue dressing-gown on the hook next to his bed, and careful not wake up his friend, he walked toward the door on his tip toes.

But as he passed by the mirror above the dressing table, he frowned and briefly stopped to stare at his reflection. Perplexed, he passed a hand on his unshaven face before leaning on the marble top. A sudden pain in his left arm made him wince. Frowning, he rolled the sleeve above his elbow, and noticed a wide and clean bandage around his biceps. A slight dizziness seized the young don as he suddenly remembered most of his last days.

Was Anna-Maria all right? Since how long was he back?

Worried, he glanced at Bernardo, considering to wake his faithful friend up to have his blanks filled. But upon seeing the dark circles on his face, the young don changed his mind, and without a sound, he stepped out on the mezzanine.

The fresh breeze felt good on his face. Appreciating the quietness, he briefly leaned on the guardrail, and stared at the partially flooded patio. Soon, his glance lost itself on the arid hills surrounding his father's hacienda. The sky was clear of clouds; the storm had raged over, and gone. He was home.

Appeased by the thought and eager to check on Anna-Maria, he silently climbed down the stairs, and strode across the patio. A minute later, he discreetly opened the door of the guest room next to his father's study and cast a quick glimpse in. A faint smile appeared on his lips upon seeing the young señorita sound asleep. Relieved, he closed the door and headed back toward the sala.

Not feeling like sitting, the young don grasped an apple on the table, and opened the sideboard's door to disappear through the secret passageway, deciding to check on another friend.

When he stepped into the humid cavern, a smile appeared on his face. Putting down the lantern on the ground, he walked toward Tornado's enclosure.

Feeling his presence, the stallion turned his head toward him.

"Hola, mi amigo," Diego said, as he leaned on the wooden post.

The steed neighed softly before stretching his neck and seizing the half-eaten apple on his hand. The young don chuckled at the sight of his breakfast escaping him, and patted the stallion's side.

"Come, Tornado," he said, grasping the mane, "You must be eager to stretch your legs after the last rainy days."

In the shady clearing, Diego sat down on a rock, and watched quietly his stallion moving around. Slowly, the sun rose above the line of trees in front of him. Appreciating its heat on his face, he slowly slumped more comfortably on the ground, and without noticing it, dozed off.

A soft neigh and moist nostrils on his face woke him up some time later.

"Tornado..." he growled with a wince, pushing his horse away with a hand.

A chuckle sounded next to him.

Startled, Diego opened his eyes and straightened.

"Father?" he asked, troubled to see the old don sitting on the rock next to him.

"Sorry, my son, I did not wish to wake you up, but your stallion did not seem to agree."

Gently, Diego pushed Tornado who was coming back, and slowly stood up.

"How do you feel, Diego?"

"Better," he replied, sitting down on the rock next to his father.

"Bueno. You had us quite worried this last week."

"Week?" Diego gasped, aghast that so much time had elapsed since he had set off in pursuit of the _bandidos_. To him, it was merely three, maybe four days ago. Had he been out for as long?

As if guessing his thoughts, his father nodded gravely, before pushing on his knees to stand up.

"Let's go walking in the hills. My old bones always appreciated the quietness of our lands in the morrow."

After ordering Tornado to stay in the clearing, Diego joined his father as he disappeared behind a curtain of trees. Silently, they wandered side by side for a moment.

"I wish to apologize, Diego," the old don said, stopping below a large willow tree.

"Apologize? If one should apologize, Father, it is me. For keeping you out of my life."

"Though I must admit that I often longed for you to share your _secret,_ it does not weaken my offense, Diego. I wanted to apologize for keeping you from accepting the governor's offer of amnesty. Though I am still convinced that you would have regretted it, my heart bled to forbid you the joys of getting married."

"My head hurt in consequence," Diego replied, bitter, before taking a deep breath.

"I understand your anger toward me, Diego, it is justified."

"I'm not angry, Father. Just troubled. How long did you know I was Zorro?"

"About two years now."

The young don's eyes widened again out of surprise. Two years? That was almost... he frowned, trying to remember what had happened so long ago.

"When I defeated the Eagle's plot to take control of the pueblo?"

"A bit before actually. Different incidents piled up together, making me more and more suspicious. You remember the day Monastario accused you in front of the viceroy of being the outlaw?"

"Difficult to forget," Diego replied automatically, before frowning at this answer. Well, not so difficult to forget in fact...

"I had a private conversation with the viceroy the following day," his father continued, unaware of his trouble, "From one father to another, he told me that you needed help to overcome a rather painful experience with the blade, saying it would be a shame to let the winner of the Royal Fencing Cup give up his skills because of a nasty duel."

Diego felt a shudder running down his spine. He never truly thought he had succeeded in convincing Marcos' father that he was not Zorro.

"Then," Don Alejandro continued, "he immediately changed the subject to talk about Zorro, telling me that unofficially, he approved of his actions, though he was deeply annoyed that if the outlaw were to be caught, even he would not be in a position to avoid him the gallows, and that this thought saddened him greatly for he admired the man, whoever he was... Is this the clump of trees where we hid from Monastario and the lancers?" the old don suddenly asked, looking all around him.

"What? Oh, sí, Father, it is," Diego replied absently as he was preoccupied to add the viceroy on his list of people who had unmasked him.

"Er... Father?"

"Sí, Diego?"

"I wondered, when I met you under the rain, I recognized Don Nacho at your side. Does he know about..."

"About you being..."

Diego nodded.

"I am afraid your stallion gave you away when he walked toward Bernardo. But do not fear, my son, for Don Nacho is a man of honor, and was deeply moved to come to your rescue. He will take your secret with him in his grave."

The young don winced. Though he knew his father was right, it was nonetheless disturbing.

"At least, according to his reaction upon seeing Zorro, the sergeant does not know who I am, does he?" he then asked, searching to confirm this point.

"The sergeant still ignores this important detail. However..."

"However?"

"You had a bit of a fever the night of your return. That nasty wound on your arm was infecting. Not taking any chance, I sent Bernardo fetching Fray Felipe."

Diego closed his eyes, guessing the rest of his father's thought.

"Fray Felipe stitched Zorro's arm two months ago. I guess he recognized his work?"

"Indeed."

The young don shook his head, and let out a very long sigh.

"At this rate, I would better avoid hurting my head again, or else the whole pueblo will soon be aware of who is hiding below el Zorro's mask," he muttered, deeply annoyed.

"And the whole pueblo will keep silent," his father replied with a chuckle, patting his shoulder, "Let's go back now, my son. Talking of Fray Felipe, he did warn me that you would tire quickly for a few days and that you needed to rest."

Relieved of the burden of his guilt toward his father, Diego nodded, and in a comfy silence, he walked back toward his den.

"How is Anna-Maria, Father?"

"It is about time you ask after her, Diego," the old don said, stopping just in front of the long branches that hid the cavern entrance.

Diego tilted his head to his side, casting an impatient look.

"She is fine. Just deeply worried about you, like all of us," the old don then said, before frowning, "Her account of what happened in the canyon was dreadful. My hands shake at the mere thought of what you had to live through. Your amnesia; this evil, vengeful dog reappearing; the Indians covered from head to toe by red mud... though she did say that one of them actually saved you from being killed by Monastario?"

"Tokala," Diego nodded, seeing again his friend saluting him on the edge of the gorge.

"Who?"

"You remember the young Indian I played with at the mission?"

"Of course, Diego, you were so difficult to handle after his unfortunate accident."

"There was no accident, Father. Tokala never died down there," he said, staring anxiously at his father as he let drop these words.

Troubled, the old don moved back into the clearing and sat down on a rock.

Not quite proud of himself, Diego began to pace around. Then, he revealed another secret, a very old one.

"Tokala knew a tale about a hidden valley where earth was as red as blood. We went down the canyon, hoping to discover why the river behind the mission had suddenly become red. Unfortunately, we got more than we bargained for. We had just discovered a huge sinkhole in which a red river disappeared then we stumbled upon soldiers. Afraid of being reprimanded, we tried to hide from them-"

"Diego, how could you think you would escape a lecture," his father reacted, aghast, "You had probably not reached the bottom of the canyon that we were already searching for you everywhere."

"I guess time does not flow at the same pace when you are eight years old," Diego winced.

The old don let out a sigh, and waved him to continue.

"As we moved away, Indians suddenly sprung from nowhere and fell on the soldiers. We tried to run away, but well..._ eight-year-old_ long legs don't run fast enough."

Diego stopped upon seeing his father turning pale.

"Don't go imagining the worst. They did not try to kill us," he quickly added to relieve the old don's heart, "I guess that the soldiers reacted badly to being surrounded and opened fire, forcing the Indians to shoot back. That's all."

"That's all? Why did Tokala not come back with you, then?"

"Because they did not want to let us go out of the valley either, for they feared that we would reveal their existence."

The old don's eyes widened, and Diego could see his blood boiling in his pupils.

"By all Saints, this has no sense! If you had not come back, we would have sent battalions of soldiers down there. I would have moved heaven and earth, having no rest until I find you!" Don Alejandro claimed, obviously deeply shaken by the mere thought of losing his son.

"I know, Father, I told them just that. Measuring the real extent of my threat, Tokala had then persuaded the Indians to at least let me go. In turn, I tried to convince them to let him go too, but to no avail. Tokala then made me promise not to reveal anything," Diego said, briefly looking for Tornado.

Reassured to see him eating grass half hidden behind a rock, he then lowered his gaze on the ground, and saw himself climbing the cliff above the arch again.

To ensure that he would not be tempted to come back with reinforcements, the natives had filled the sinkhole with rocks. The next instant, the river had flooded back in its original bed, closing completely the access to the hidden valley. Until a new sinkhole would form.

His father's hand clenched on his shoulder, jerking him back to the present.

"Come, my son," the old don said, standing up slowly, "I can see all these emotions have tired you."

Grateful for his father not to voice any reproach, Diego nodded.

"You know, I'm not getting any younger," the old don said, spreading the branches away, "And by a fortunate coincidence, it happens that Don Gregorio also thinks of himself in such a way-"

"Father..." Diego muttered, rolling his eyes as he guessed what was now crossing the old don's mind.

"What? You made us worry about you two, now would be the time for Anna-Maria and you to worry about us in return!"

Shaking his head and smiling, Diego patted his father's shoulder. "You never give up, do you?"

"Never!" the old don replied, proudly holding his head high.

The End

* * *

_AN: Ahh... Now that I wrote these last two, fateful words, I wish to thank you all for your reviews. It helped me a great deal. I hope you had as much joy to read this story than I had to write it :-)_

_IcyWaters, how will I ever be able to redeem myself? There is no word big enough to tell you how I enjoyed your presence at my sides while I dived into Zorro's world! And you know it already, your passion is very contagious. I fear I'll never be able to stand down writing adventures for this so strong and fun character now ;-)_

_I read in one of my favorites novel a line I want to share here. A woman is talking to the author that she loves reading the books, and says something like: _

_"Your words were the best medicine I could ever get to cheer up my mind after difficult days. Your novels should be prescribed in place of drugs; they would save people."  
_

_Like this fictional author, Guy Williams' energy and talent still make us live the magic of Zorro, __55 years later_. He gave_ McCulley's hero blood, flesh, and a very addictive mieschievousness that will never be equaled ;-) _May his legend live long, and continue to make generations of kids burst in laughing, _and wake up the kid in each of us too_ :-)  



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